Demadiluve
by A.J. Slye
Summary: She couldn't remember anything. Who she was, where she was from. Nothing. But over time Kagome's memories return as she journeys with the Fellowship across Middle Earth, joining them in their quest. But then again, some memories are better left forgotten.
1. A Book Without Pages

**Book One: Recollection**

Chapter One

_A Book Without Pages_

It was a rather passive evening at Minas Tirith on the border of Gondor. Large white flakes of snow had started to fall during the early morning and the silence of their descent continued throughout the ebbing twilight. The Steward, who had just finished his duties for the day, strode over to one of the Tower's many windows, staring out across the vast white blanket that continued to envelop his country in its immaculate beauty. A faint smile ebbed its way across his lips at the idyllic and rather serene sight. This moment of peace, however, was interrupted by a spectacle that was taking place directly beneath him in the outer courtyard.

His eldest son had come running into the palace below, his blond hair and armor getting covered in faint white flakes as he ran. But what caught the father off guard was the sight of a petite young woman in his son's gloved arms. And while her curious red and white outfit surprised him, the Steward found his eyes drawn to her face.

Her hair was raven black, falling a little ways below her shoulders and becoming tinted with the little white snowflakes. However, when these soft white petals landed on her skin, he could not differentiate between the two, for her flesh was as white, if not whiter than the snow. But before the Steward could depict anything else from the strange occurrence, his son had dashed into one of the entrance halls below, leaving the outer landscape motionless yet again save for the fluttering snowflakes.

With a soft swish from his black winter robes, the Steward turned and began to make his way downstairs. It did not take him long to reach the lower corridors, but upon his arrival all was quiet. The older man snorted, slightly annoyed, "You there, guard." The sentry looked towards him as the black haired man continued, "Do you have any idea where my son has gone off to?"

The guard did not move, save for the slight turn of the head. "He went off with one of the healers down the west corridor. Apparently he had found some half-dead girl outside the city." Apparently this was nothing too exciting to the guard, for his voice was nonchalant as he spoke.

Without a word of thanks, the Steward took off down the instructed hallway, set on finding his eldest child. But he did not have to go very far before he encountered his son leaving a room halfway down the hall. The older man stopped next to his son, leaning against the wall as he closed the door to the room. "And what are you doing, bringing strange women into the city Boromir?" A mischievous grin had crept across Denethor's face at his words, but his son had yet to acknowledge them.

Hidden beneath the shadow of his hair, Boromir rolled his eyes. Really, he wasn't some hormone-driven teenager anymore. Now, although Faramir could be considered a man (a young one at that), 19 just didn't cut it for their father. But Boromir was 24 for pities sake! That should be old enough for him to realize that he wasn't a child.

After a moment, Boromir spoke, running a hand through his blond hair. "I found her unconscious outside the city." He paused for a moment, "I couldn't just leave her there to die."

The older man grunted. His teasing smile disappeared, only to be replaced by a stoic frown. "Why bother?" The Steward asked, "What is one less person in the world?" His hands were now folded behind his back as Denethor stared at his son, leaning casually against the wall.

The young man turned towards his father, his voice serious and rising in frustration. He replied with a question of his own. "Tell me father, how would you feel if someone just left you to die, when they could have full well prevented it?"

Sometimes (like now for instance) Boromir was simply disgusted with his father's overall mindset. But he was still his father; and he could never change that. As the saying went, a fox may change its fur, but not its tricks. His father was a perfect example.

A somber look then graced the Steward's face as he countered almost instantly to the question. "I can say that I have never been in such a predicament, therefore I cannot truly answer your question my son." A smirk was starting to etch its way across the older man's face at the claim.

The younger man suddenly laughed, catching his father's eye. "Really now; and after all your time as Steward, I would have thought you might have had the chance to experience it." Denethor's face quickly turned flush at the backtalk. However, before he could retaliate to his son's brash comment, one of the many Tower scribes rapidly approached them, calling out to the Steward.

The older man then grumbled under his breath at the oncoming nuisance. "I told that old fool that it could wait. It is not as if the entire village will perish if I just wait to sign the papers until tomorrow." The Steward then strode off down the hall, already shouting at the gray haired man before he had even taking a single step.

Boromir sighed; really, his father would _never_ change. But right now he had other and much more important things to worry about; like the girl. When he had found her, her skin was so white he was almost certain that he had simply stumbled across her corpse. But miraculously, he found her to still be alive, but faintly, for her breath had dropped to a dangerously slow pace. She was lucky he had found her, for if she had been subject to the cold for much longer he doubted she would've survived.

Seeing as how his father had so kindly left him, Boromir decided to see how the girl was doing, and he reached for the doorknob once again. But as he was about to enter, he heard his father shout, "Boromir!" Denethor and the scribe approached him quickly and both were soon standing beside him all while looking rather uneasy. Boromir closed the door, staying in the hall.

"Is something wrong father?" Boromir asked curiously.

His father nodded, his face now inexplicably grim. "To say, yes." He said, glancing to and from the scribe. He moistened his lips before he continued, "Apparently that village I was telling you about has been completely destroyed. Set aflame and burned clear to the ground."

The young man's eyes widened a bit at the news. "What?" He sputtered. Boromir stared back and forth between his father and the dejected scribe. "How did this happen?" True, there were bandits, orcs and the like wandering the badlands, occasionally ransacking a community every once and a while, but killing off an entire village? Even if it were orcs, some people always managed to get away or not everyone's head was severed from their shoulders. There were always a few survivors, but this sort of thing had not happened in a greater while.

The scribe pushed his antique glasses back on top his nose. He shifted some of the many scrolls under his arm before he continued. His crinkled gray hair seemed to fall off his head at his own dreaded words, "Your brother's just returned from scouting and found the village in ruins. He said it must have happened recently, for the remains of the place was still smoldering when he arrived earlier this afternoon."

"So, what was it; orcs, bandits?" Boromir questioned, still perplexed with the situation.

The old man sighed, "Well, you see young Sir, that's just it. There are no witnesses. Everyone and thing in and surrounding that village is dead, now nothing but piles of ash and rubble. And any evidence has been destroyed along with the village."

The air in the corridor was now dangerously thick as the scribe continued, "Young Master Faramir said that all he could gather from the site was this." The old man pulled a beaded necklace out from his pocket. He handed it to Boromir. Denethor and the scribe both silently watched the young man examine the object.

"He said it was only thing left unburned." The scribe whispered, watching the younger man in patience.

After a moment, Boromir spoke, his eyes looking up, glancing up at the stout old man. "These beads are made of bone." He paused glancing back down to the object in his hands, "And brother said there nothing was left? Not even the villagers' remains?"

The scribe only shook his head in silent remorse. Boromir looked back to the object in his hands. "Then what makes these beads different?" Boromir stared curiously at the purple and white necklace, turning it over as if trying to find some hidden key to figuring out its mystery. "Why weren't they burned as well?" He muttered, still staring at the jewelry.

"While I am no expert in the area, I am inclined to believe that they are made of demon bone." The scribe arbitrarily suggested, catching the eyes of both Denethor and Boromir. The Steward was first to speak.

"_Demon bone_?" He repeated, obviously taken aback. The Steward suddenly let out a mocking chuckle. "Where on this earth do demon's still live?"

The old man's face turned grim once again. "You'd be surprised sir. I have read and heard many things in all my years, and I tell you now, demons are still among us. Go ask any Wizard or Elf and they will certainly tell you the same."

It was then quiet for a moment. That was, until another young man came sprinting down the hall. He too was dressed in armor and his cheeks were still flush from being out in the cold. His brown hair was wet from the melting snow, which stuck to his face as he ran.

He stopped just beside the group, panting. Denethor wasn't hesitant to flash the boy a sneer of annoyance. "Must you always make such an entrance Faramir?"

The 19 year old immediately straightened up, his wavy brown hair partially shrouding his eyes as he spoke, "I'm sorry father." He said earnestly, rubbing his hands together, trying to warm them up. Faramir continued, "But I when I first told this gentleman here of what had happened, he ran off so quickly that I did not finish telling him the whole story."

The trio's eyes were now locked on the young Faramir. While the scribe seemed mutely humiliated about his brash behavior, Denethor only seemed to grow even more irate. "Well? Out with it boy!"

His harsh words seemed to silently sting him, but Faramir didn't show it, save for the slight frown that overtook his young face. He had grown accustomed to this treatment long ago, so it was nothing he wasn't faced with daily. Despite that, he stood tall, his face jarringly stoic as he spoke in monotone. "I'm assuming he told you of the village already?" Boromir and Denethor nodded.

Faramir continued, but not before moving a few wet pieces of hair out of his eyes prior to speaking again, "While the rest of my party searched what was left of the village for survivors, I walked the burned perimeter and came across a set of tracks. It was even more intriguing when I found them to be _leaving_ the village."

Boromir spoke, obviously interested at this new leg of the mystery, "What kind little brother?" He asked curiously, a childish gleam now twinkling brightly in his blue eyes. The young man's frown lessened a bit and the corners of his mouth turned upwards. Leave it to Boromir to lighten the mood. Faramir glanced at his father. Not to his surprise, an aggravated scowl was lining his lips.

What was his ghost of a smile disappeared, and Faramir spoke again, "Human. They were small and narrow, so I'm inclined to believe that it was a young woman or girl that fled the village."

"Well, that's excellent news my boy!" The scribe said, his face glowing. "Now if we could just find her and ask her what _exactly_ happened—"

Before the scribe could finish, Faramir cut him off. The young man's brow furrowed as he intervened the older man's plan. His eyes trailed to the ground for a moment, lost in thought, "But that's just it." He said plainly, his eyes finally looking up to meet their stares, "I think she's already here." No one asked what he was talking about, for they only stared at him, still confused.

Looking up, Faramir nearly rolled his eyes at them. Really, was he the only one smart enough to put all the pieces together? "I followed the footprints. They came to a stop on the outskirts of the city wall." Faramir looked to his brother, whose eyes were now widening. He smiled; well, at least it clicked for his brother.

Boromir then decided to speak, finishing off the story for his brother, "So you're saying that the girl in there," he gestured to the room behind him, "is the one who you believe escaped from the village?"

The younger man nodded, "Yes." He smiled at his brother. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"He's right." The scribe concluded, his face serious. "That village is barely a days walk from here, so it's very possible that she could've gotten here, given the chance."

"Well, for once you have actually been of use. Well done." Denethor chided, his lips turned upwards slightly, but not in the comforting manner. There was a rather taxing silence for a moment before the Steward spoke again, "Seeing as how this small issue has been resolved, I'm off to dinner. Ta!" Without another word of concern or worry, Denethor strode back off down the corridor, his black robes once again billowing out behind him in a manner only a man,_ such as himself _could possess.

As soon as he was out of sight, the three remaining members of the group sighed in unplanned unison, but each for entirely different reasons. The scribe one again pushed his glasses back onto his nose, nodding at the two brothers before heading back down the hall as well, his old shoes tapping lightly on the floor as he walked.

They both watched him go. Neither said anything until the sound of his shoes could no longer be heard. The siblings looked towards one another, both weary. "You know he means well." Boromir insisted, offering his little brother a smile.

The younger snorted, his brother's words flying in one ear and out the other. "Towards you he does." The teen's voice dropped to a low whisper. "He does not care about what happens to me."

Boromir stood tall above his brother, placing his hands on his shoulders, "Now you know that's not true Faramir." His gaze was stern, but caring all at once. The younger only laughed again, shaking his head at his older brother.

"Prove it." He said, his stare asking just that.

The older man sighed, releasing his brother from his hold. "One day, father will acknowledge you Faramir." His voice was quiet and held a shred of bitterness to it. He drew back, resting against the door behind him, his arms folded across his chest in thought. "And when that day arrives, I can only hope you will be willing to forgive him." Both of them were quiet for a moment, perfectly fine with just standing in the corridor in the essence of newfound tranquility.

"There was something I didn't mention earlier." Faramir said quietly after a few minutes of comfortable silence. His brother was quick to meet his shrouded eyes, but didn't say anything and let his sibling continue. "When I said I saw her tracks leaving the village, I meant it. But I did not see any other footprints coming into or out of the village either."

Boromir pulled up from the door, raising an eyebrow at his younger brother. "What are you saying?" He asked. Really, things were confusing enough as it was, and Faramir wasn't helping with all the hidden details he kept leaving out.

"I am saying, be wary of her." He suggested, his face passive. The brown haired teen glanced at the door. "I'm not say treat her like a fugitive, but just be careful when you are around her. I found it strange, not only that her footprints were the only tracks leaving the area, but the fact that her stride seemed clam and not rushed, as it should be from someone fleeing a battleground. Not to mention that she wasn't, for whatever reason, perused during all of this chaos."

Boromir had to agree with him, "I suppose you are right." He paused for a moment before finally making up his mind. "I will go question her then." Boromir then reached for the brass knob, but found his brother's gloved hand preventing him from entering the room.

The blond man stared down at his sibling, silently questioning his actions. "Let sleeping dogs lie and the wounded heal in peace." Faramir said softly, letting go of his brother's wrist. Once Boromir let go of the knob he continued, "You can rightfully question her once she wakes, but until then, leave her to rest." The older sibling nodded, drawing back from the door.

The older stood for a moment, a small smile ebbing its way across his face. "Here," Boromir stated, draping something over his brother's head, "Take this as your reward for a job well done. If not from father, then from me." Faramir looked down to see the purple and white necklace now resting against his chest.

He glanced up at his brother quizzically. "This old thing?"

"Yes." Boromir stated firmly, but one could tell his voice was laced with humor. "Besides, you found it. You keep it."

Faramir rolled his eyes at his older brother. "Thank you for the erm, _gift_ I suppose." He fiddled with the necklace for a moment before clapping his hands together. "Now, if you'll excuse me dear brother, I'm going to get out of these clothes." Faramir stated, and did not hesitate in beginning to stride off down the corridor. "I don't particularly care for these wet garbs and heavy armor, unlike yourself." Faramir gestured towards his elder, who was still adorned in his chainmail, riding gloves, cloak, sword and other countless pieces of armor. Not to mention, all in which, were very wet, seeing as how the snow just _happened_ to melt when he came inside.

Boromir laughed again at his little brother, who was now whistling a soft tune as he continued to head down the hall. As soon as he was out of sight, Boromir reached for the knob, a little snicker playing off his lips. While his dear brother had said not to question the girl, he had said nothing about making sure the healer was doing her job correctly. And so he slipped into the room, shutting the door behind him with an almost inaudible '_click_.'

No sooner had he entered was Boromir greeted with a beat to the head. "Ow!" Boromir yelled as his hand flew to the new bump on his skull. He looked down, as his eyes adjusted to the faint dimness of the room. After a few seconds, he looked down to see the old healer glaring up at him, her twisted cane making its way back to the floor.

"Stupid! Don't be so loud. I could hear you fluently through the walls! The girl needs sleep all your ruckus will wake her." Boromir glanced down again to see the withered old woman glaring up at him. Her teeth seemed to nearly fall out of her mouth as she spoke in a violent whisper and Boromir swore her nose must have been broken at least four times it was so crooked. Yet he held his tongue, knowing he would only receive another beat to the head if he spoke his thoughts.

"I gave her some tonic that should help her recover faster, and I found no injuries, so all she really needs to do is keep warm and sleep." Boromir listened to the old woman prattle on quietly as she scuttled towards the door.

"There's more tonic on the side table. Make sure she has some every few hours or so. And I put her clothes in the wardrobe, seeing as how they weren't ruined. There just seemed to be a bit of soot at the bottom, but I'm sure that…" By now Boromir was practically pushing the old woman out the door, nearly twitching. Really, did she have any idea how irritating her voice was?

Apparently she didn't, for the healer kept on ranting, now halfway out the door. One of her boney fingers prodded up against the air as she spoke again, "And make sure that she eats as soon as she wakes up. She's thinner than I am and I can barely stomach anything nowadays." The old woman was now outside the room, both of her hands resting presently on her cane.

Boromir nodded towards her, making his thanks short and sweet, wanting the old woman gone. "I will be sure that what needs to be done will be taken care of, and should her condition worsen, you will be the first to know."

The old lady smiled, although it was far from heartwarming, seeing as how most of her teeth were missing. "Not a problem boy," she grabbed one of his hands, giving it a light pat, "and I'm quite sure that the young lady will be fine." She then released his hand before using it to tighten the tattered gray scarf around her tiny neck.

"Now, I must be off. Time is of the essence when you are as old as I!" With that, the healer turned to leave down the hallway and Boromir gladly shut the door behind her. This left the room quiet, save for the occasional crackle from the torches that lined the walls. Boromir sighed again, walking over to the girl's bedside.

"Oh! And one last thing boy," The healer's head suddenly popped back in the room, which caused the man to jump lightly at her sudden reappearance. A wise old grin then cracked its way across her aged face as she spoke. She stared at Boromir through her tiny glasses, her eyes dancing in silent excitement.

"She's not human."

Without another word, the healer left again. This time, Boromir waited a moment, fully expecting the old woman to reappear for a second time. However she did not and Boromir then turned his full attention towards the unconscious girl in front of him. He sat on the side of the bed and stared at her quizzically.

Not human? She had said. He glanced at the unconscious girl. What was that haggard old woman doing talking such nonsense? Boromir then brushed a stray piece of the girl's hair out of her face, allowing him a glimpse of her pointed ears.

Boromir sat, now rendered speechless and embarrassed, both from not noticing this feature sooner. She was indeed _not_ a human, just as the healer said. Boromir suddenly laughed, "Apparently that old woman isn't as haggard as I thought if she can still see something I so plainly missed." He shook his head for a moment, still laughing quietly to himself. After a while, Boromir looked back down at the girl, his expression calm, returning passive and thoughtful.

He was surprised however, to see a pair of wide eyes looking up at him.

They both stared at each other in quiet shock. Or more, she stared at him in what seemed to be slight fear while Boromir was only lost in her shifting eyes.

Pitch-black pits on a snowy white canvas. What part of her eye was to be colored was black and melted into the pupil, making the two look like a single black orb in the midst of the pallid area of her eyes. It astonished Boromir that one could have a feature as strange as this.

After overcoming his silent surprise, he spoke and offered her a soft smile. "Hello. My name is Boromir." She seemed to get only more nervous, and she even attempted to shy away from him. Boromir laughed faintly again, "Do not worry, you are safe here." He raised his hands in defense, trying to convince her of his benevolent intentions.

"And how do I know that?" Her voice was soft, but slightly raspy as she spoke. She sat up a bit while Boromir replied to her comment, his hand falling back to his side.

"You don't." He said earnestly, meeting her stare head on. "You will just have to trust me." She glanced away at the declaration, but Boromir caught her mumbling something under her breath.

"What was that?" He asked, staring at her intriguingly.

She blinked up at him before sighing. Looking away, she repeated her words quietly, her eyes trained on the brown quilt in her hand. "But one ever knows who can really be trusted. Not unless the trust is willing to come from both sides." She then slouched back into the many pillows that supported her as sleep attempted to reclaim her tired eyes. "And trust," She muttered, "has to be earned," she glanced at him before her eyes drifted shut again, "and is not appointed."

Boromir merely stared at her again, her words seeming far beyond her years. Yet she looked no older than 20 and her delicate features only led him to believe she was perhaps younger. The man corrected himself; she obviously some form of non-human entity, perhaps an Elf. But he wasn't going to jump to that assumption immediately, but it was a decent theory. However, he would have much time later to properly question her. So Boromir spoke again, wanting to know one last time before he let the mysterious female sleep again.

"What is your name?"

At first, her eyes opened slowly and she just laid there as if lost in thought. But after a moment her eyes widened and she bolted upright, sheer panic etched across her face and throughout her now ridged posture. "My name," she said while the numerous quilts and blankets the once covered her fell onto the mattress, revealing the off blue nightgown she wore.

"My _name_?" She spoke the word as if it were her last breath, coming off soft and pained. A sudden dry sob wracked her lips as she brought her hand up to her mouth. She replied gently, certain in her words.

"I don't know."

Boromir stared at her, confusion being the primary and unmistakable expression that flashed across his face. "What? But how can you not?"

"I don't know, alright?" She snapped at him, quivering lightly at her own realization. She pulled her knees up against her chest, and placed her chin on her knees. "I just don't." She whispered, seeming so inexplicably lost at her own words.

Boromir stared at her, his gaze questioning. And who was he to believe her? For all he knew she could be lying to him. He knew all too well to not judge a book by its cover, especially when it came to women.

The young man then rose from his position beside the bed, causing her to glance at him. His face was clam as he spoke, although it portrayed nothing. "I will send someone to bring you something to eat. For now, you may rest." He was halfway out the door when he stopped; a hushed voice rang through his ears once again like a dying whisper.

"Imagine a book with all of the pages missing. You don't know what was written on them, but you know they were there," there was a pause, "but now, for whatever reason, they're not."

Her voice was hushed as she spoke. Boromir only listened to the sound of the quilts shift as she got back under the warm covers. His hand was still planted on the brass knob with the door partially ajar. But his hand didn't move as she continued.

"But the book could be rebound and pages refilled. Everything would be fine." Boromir felt her stare on his back and turned to face her.

"But what if the words are different?" She was lying down again, turned towards him with one of her hands clutching the blankets in silent desperation. Her gaze shifted, and her eyes closed. She turned over with her back was now facing him. Her raven black hair cascaded across the white pillows at the action. He heard her sigh. "Then the book isn't the same. It only got rewritten to fit the world around it."

The young man only stared at her back, his own silent mantra parading about his mind as she sat, now motionless. He was not surprised when the phrase that had been marching loudly about his thoughts left the girl's mouth.

"It has been said that memories make a person." She whispered. Her words were so soft that Boromir almost didn't catch the hint of a sentence. He watched her shoulders rise as she heaved a great sigh, the blankets moving as her chest rose and fell.

"But what do you do if those memories are lost?" Boromir swore he heard her let out a quiet, and somewhat shuttering breath under the heap of blankets that were now covering her in a mass of brown and gray. He once again closed the door, softly this time, and strode back over to the bed. Only now, he walked to the opposite side, standing at the bedside next to her as she stared at the opposite wall.

He wasn't surprised to see faint tears trickle out of the corners of her eyes as she squeezed them shut in her attempts to keep the tears at bay. Her face was contorted with unspoken pain but her voice seemed to project it even further. "Then what do you become?" Again, Boromir had to strain his ears just to hear her, but he somehow managed to catch her words.

Sighing for what seemed the millionth time that day, Boromir kneeled down beside her. He stared at her for a moment before answering the rhetorical question, a faint smile now gracing his lips. "A child," he murmured quietly. Boromir knew it was plenty loud enough for her to hear him, and sure enough, her eyes snapped open, black-white orbs meeting his own blue eyes. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks as she silently gaped at him, waiting for him to continue.

Boromir gently reached his hand out to hers, slowly taking one of her small, pale hands in his own. He gave her plenty of time to pull away if she wanted, but she didn't. She let him faintly hold her hand as he continued on, "Ready to start fresh and new with the innocence and naiveté you have been granted." He offered her another reassuring smile, trying his best to offer his condolences.

In a blur of brown and gray, she flung herself at the unprepared man, wrapping her arms tightly around him as she broke down completely. Boromir was stunned beyond words at female that now sat in his lap. Well, he certainly hadn't expected _that_ sort of reaction, but it was a reaction nonetheless. He would have been more worried if she'd just lain there and not done anything.

In the back of his mind, Boromir wondered why he even cared. He had unconsciously pulled her closer, his gloved hand resting in a comforting matter on her back as he debated this thought. The young female only continued to cry into his chest, which was still adorned in chainmail.

And truth be told; she didn't really mind the chainmail. Not in the least actually. All she needed was someone to cling to for the moment and she honestly didn't care that it was some complete stranger who she had just met not a moment ago. She didn't know who she was, let alone who he was, where _here_ exactly was, let alone how she had gotten there or what happened prior to her waking up. But she did know one thing; he was there for her. And that was all that mattered.

After a while, her sobs turned to hiccups, which were soon silenced as she fell asleep, clearly exhausted. Boromir carefully picked her back up, just as he had done when he had first found her sleeping silently in the snow. He gently laid her back on the bed and watched her sleeping form for a moment. His eyes were trained on the trail of tears that silently continued to flow down her face as she slept. Making sure she didn't wake, Boromir pulled the quilts and blankets back over her. Again, he made sure she was asleep before leaving the warm room and closed the door behind him with a soft '_click'_.

Upon reentering the corridor, a very deep and partially somnolent sigh came from Boromir's lips as he slouched back against the door. He rubbed a hand against his face, clearly troubled.

Something had obviously happened to her. He couldn't even begin to guess what it could've been, but he had this itching feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him it was not good. Whether she had been though some sort of trauma, or just overall memory loss, he didn't know, but Boromir did know one thing.

She wasn't lying.

Rarely had his gut feeling ever been wrong, and at this particular moment, it was telling him that she had been speaking the truth; that she didn't have any idea who she was. Not to mention the terror she had displayed upon actually realizing it. No, such emotion could never be acted out by some mere fork-tongued-liar. She was utterly terrified that she didn't know who she was. And as she had said before, memories make a person. Without them, you really aren't a person at all. You're just a hallow shell, waiting to be filled with the ideas and beliefs of the environment around you.

The man had recognized her pain as well. It was the hopeless and petrified type. It was the kind that managed to bring people down so low, that they just wanted to give up on everything. So Boromir did the only thing he knew to do for such predicaments and let her cling to him, just like his mother had done all those years ago before her passing. Although it may not have been much, he knew that something is always better than nothing. It had helped his mother during her last days, and it apparently had helped her as well. He unconsciously smiled at that.

Boromir then rose up from the door and then began the short trek down the hall, his mind still fogged over with the day's events as he tried to replay them in his mind. All the while, she slept, constantly tossing and turning in the midst of her nightmares, with fresh tears still trickling from her lidded eyes as her imaginary horrors became real.

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**Standard Disclaimer: **I do not own InuYasha or Lord of the Rings.

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"_He said it was the only thing left unburned."_

_%&*_

I went through at least six different versions on _just how_ to start this thing off, (and yes, you could say this is a prologue like chapter) and I must say, I'm glad I went with this one. And yes, Boromir is 24 and Faramir is 19 for now. This is _**before**_ everybody goes on the Ring quest and all that which is actually many years later when Boromir is 41 and Faramir is 36 so I basically jumped back 17 years. And kudos to anyone who can figure out the meaning of the title! And if you do, shhh! Let other people use their brains like you did.


	2. Disruption

Chapter Two

_Disruption_

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%&* **_17 Years Later_** %&*

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Fate is always a fickle thing. It is forever twisting and turning, with new doors constantly opening and closing, but with time forever rolling on. With the passing of time, comes life and death. No matter what one does to evade it, mortality is inevitable, even for the immortals. Everything has a flaw, or one final weakness that can be met. And for her, it was her past. Or more, lack there of. And it was this flaw that would rise up to meet her, perhaps even kill her. But while fake can be fickle, it is not set in stone, especially not for her.

A raven-haired female walked slowly across the landscape, her petite form practically melting into the shadows as she ventured on. She had no particular place to be, so why hurry? And seeing as how it was such a beautiful evening, she decided to walk calmly, enjoying the newfound presence of summer's early warmth.

Her steps were composed and silent, with her boots leaving an invisible print in the dusty road. The trees swayed in the night's breeze and the countless flickering stars illuminated the moonless sky. There was a fresh smell to the air and crickets could be heard quietly chirping all around, each somehow managing to sing in harmony with one another. A soft smile crept across her lips as she crossed a small bridge, her black cloak skimming across the ground behind her.

She had been walking for quiet a while now; always aimlessly letting her feet take her where they desired. A few days ago, she passed through the town of Bree. Since then, she'd swerved her way east, stopping every now and then to enjoy the warming nights and blooming landscapes.

Her dark eyes flickered upwards, now looking far across the countryside in front of her. There was a faint glow shining from off in the distance. It was dim, yes, but her exceptionally sharp eyes caught it. Just what was happening over there to have such an uncommon radiance sprout from the night like water from a spring?

Deciding to see just what was going on, (and since she had nothing else to do) the shrouded female kept on her set path down the road. Her pace quickened until she was nothing more than a blur jumping between the shadows. She was curious, that was all. And besides, she highly doubted that investigating would cause some cataclysmic change to her boring life.

In a matter of minutes, she had appeared at her destination, hiding under the shadow of a large oak tree. Her eyes darted from person to person, trying to understand the situation in front of her.

For one, there were hobbits everywhere and almost all of them seemed to be in a panic. She must have walked all the way to the Shire, which was something she hadn't done in almost two decades. Her brother had told her of them some years ago, and after being told of the curious little half-lings, she was quick to set out and find them.

Just like back then, she observed them silently, the whites of her eyes being the only visible part of her cloaked body. Large decorations, tables, banners, tents, bonfires, and other festive assortments were sprawled out across the green landscape around her. Most of the hobbit folk appeared shaken, some even crying. Looking to her left, she saw a particularly large yellow banner, with the words, 'Happy 111th Birthday Bilbo' written across in a bold red. For something so joyous as a birthday party, what had caused such a disturbance to the happy celebration?

She was knocked from her thoughts when someone unexpectedly ran into her. She stumbled a ways, but caught herself on the tree nearby. The raven-haired female snapped her head up, silently berating herself for not being on guard. What would her family say if they saw her so behaving so disgruntled? She silently laughed to herself at that.

Well, her father would tell her that she was merely being female (seeing as how _all_ women tune out the things they don't wish to hear). However, her brothers on the other hand, would have screamed at her to be more careful while also putting her through yet another one of their torturous training exercises.

She shook her head softly; now wasn't the time to be reminiscing! Carefully, she glanced out from behind the large oak and saw her offender. But then again, seeing as just who it was, she could hardly call him that.

A young half-ling was scrambling up from the ground. His bright blue eyes shone in panic as he hastily picked himself up off the soft grass. As he stood, his eyes scanned the area around him, obviously looking for whomever it was that he had run into. For half a second, their eyes met, and then she vanished, completely fading into the trees shadow.

Before his eyes even had a chance to widen in alarm, she had gone, making him think it was nothing more than a trick of light. Or perhaps he'd had too much to drink. Yes, that must have been it! But as he stood and continued to run for his uncle's house, he silently mused on the idea as to how there had been no light under the thick shade of the tree and one mug of beer just wasn't enough to do him over.

She watched him stumble for a moment, before resuming in his run up a nearby path and through a white gate. It had surprised her that he had seen her, for most of the time she could be standing right beside someone and they would have no idea that she was hovering so close. The old healer said it was as if she had no aura. But the old codger was slowing slipping in life and sanity. No one took anything she said seriously anymore.

Yet, that half-ling had found her without so much as batting an eyelash. Just what was different about him that he had managed to find her so easily? After a quiet moment, she decided to follow him to figure it out. And so she slithered off after the young hobbit. While, yes, she was still very curious about the entire situation, this little half-ling had captured her upmost attention. So she stalked after him, no one else noticing her dance her way through the shadows.

In a matter of minutes she arrived at a small house, or more, hobbit hole. The first time she had seen the little homes, she was amazed. To live in a home completely buried under the side of a hill. What a life that must have been! It was unfortunate, however, that she couldn't see the small hobbit, only knowing he had gone inside, seeing as how the round red door was now hanging wide open. She suddenly caught a voice, or more, whisper floating from inside.

"Precious…"

She didn't notice herself twitch at the word. But she did observe herself slowly slink her way towards the open door. A faint stream of light was leaking outside. Opting to take a chance, she let herself steal a glimpse into the house while being partially bathed in the lights yellow glow.

The home was very quaint and well kept, halls branching off to the numerous rooms of the underground home. Directly in front of her, not even a few strides away, she saw an old man. He was sitting in a chair close to the fire. She could tell he was smoking, seeing wisps of grey floating above his scraggily grey hair. The half-ling stood behind him and spoke something her sensitive ears refused to detect. All she could hear was the ever-growing pulse that echoed through her inner most thoughts as it silently began to take over her will.

Her face was now eerily blank and seemed as cold as ice. She merely stared at the duo that stood in front of the warm fire. She simply remained frozen just outside the door, content in simply observing them. The half of her face that was drowned in light continued to watch them, always unmoving. To an onlooker, one would have thought it was the face of Death as she lurked outside her next victim's door.

The old man turned around and spoke directly to the hobbit. His words were muffled to her as she observed them impassively and the pulse still blocked everything out. The man smiled at the young half-ling. He spoke a moment longer before holding a small envelope out to the consoled half-ling. She watched with calculating eyes as the Ring in his hand became visible for an instant. It fell silently through the air before it disappeared into the paper casing.

Her eyes widened dramatically, nostrils flaring as she drew a sharp breath. She watched the hobbit freeze slightly, not moving as the old man motioned to seal the envelope. While the man was preoccupied, the half-ling dared to turn his head around. It didn't take long before his azure eyes met her own. They stared at one another for a moment before she bolted once again, leaving him wondering if his sanity was slipping.

"Is something wrong Frodo?" The old man said, turning back around while slipping the envelope back into his hand. The hobbit's gaze lingered at the doorway for a moment before gazing at his friend.

"No," his eyes flickered back to the doorway. He flashed a small smile before continuing. "Nothing."

Moments later, the old man left on his horse and sped off into the night with a newfound vigor. Frodo saw him out, and was now staring down the path of his friend's departure. He stood on the dirt road for a moment before noticing just how quiet things had gotten.

The wind had gone silent, along with all the cheery sounds of the midnight crickets. Nothing moved. Every branch was still and even the clouds seemed to pause in their effortless venture across the ink black sky.

Frodo gulped, his hand still clutching the envelope tightly. He spoke bravely at first, looking around cautiously. "I know you're there," His voice dropped to a quiet murmur, "somewhere."

His eyes darted all around, looking for any sign of movement, but after a tense moment, Frodo sighed and walked back into the house. His hand lingered on the doorframe for an instant, taking one last look out across the night. With a fleeting glance, he walked back into his house, closing the red door behind him with a '_click_'.

When the door closed, a pair of white-black eyes reopened, hovering beside the shadow of the hill. The eyes bobbed over to one of the nearby windows and carefully peered inside. She unconsciously set her hand on the window box as she did so.

She watched the Hobbit meander his way around, dousing the lights and locking the front door. Soon the whole house was blanketed in the night's darkness and she left, finding no more reason to stay. She left no sign of her presence, save for the wilted flowers in the window box.

* * *

**Standard Disclaimer**: I don't own InuYasha or Lord of the Rings.

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"_To an onlooker, one would have thought it was the face of Death as she lurked outside her next victim's door."_

_%&*_

Sorry it's so short, but it's been almost a month and I wanted to put _something_ up for you to mull over. But while it may be short, there's some major foreshadowing and symbolism. And again, forgive me for those of you who I told things that would happen in this chapter, but did not. I'm a very sporadic kind of person, and things are always changing. Sorry. Anyway, despite my randomness and the overall lack of length of this chapter, please review! The next chapter will, be much, much longer. I promise you that.


	3. Curiosity and the Cat

Chapter Three

_Curiosity and the Cat_

She would admit it. She was curious, _very_ curious. While, yes, it was in her nature to want to know the how and why of everything, this had peaked a particular interest for her. To say, she hadn't been this fascinated in anything for a very long while.

After the small incident at the hobbit's house a few weeks ago, she'd let him be while she wandered around like usual. But as time passed, she only grew more inquisitive, her mind rethinking everything down to the last detail.

For one, how on earth had that hobbit managed to find the Ring? And not just any ring, but _the_ Ring. The One Ring of Power that would ultimately decide the fate of there seemingly doomed world. Her father had told her its legend years ago, yet it baffled her to think how a hobbit (of all creatures) had managed to get it in his possession.

While she had not actually gotten a good look at it, she had a feeling deep in the bottom of her gut telling her that the ring she had seen was indeed _the_ Ring.

But as she walked down yet another unbeaten path, a sudden thought occurred to her. If the Ring of Power was still in existence meant that there would be someone looking for it. And that hobbit didn't look like one who had much skill with a blade, if any at all. He would need protecting, she decided, and she'd be the one to do it. So it was then she found herself wandering back in the direction of the Shire, her mind set, the nightscape all ready settling in around her as she silently walked on.

It was late evening by the time she appeared in front of a familiar red door, stopping just outside the little home's gate, wondering just what to do from here. She couldn't simply walk in on him. Goodness knows she'd give him a heart attack.

There was a sudden '_snap'_ from nearby. Half a second later, she heard a faint whisper of profanity lingering someplace under the one of the small windows. A faint grin cracked its way across her pale blue lips.

It was another hobbit. And by the looks of it, he was spying on the blue-eyed one, who's name, if she recalled correctly, was Frodo. While he was a bit porkier than the other, he'd done a good job thus far remaining undetected by the duo inside. But he was no match for her. Quietly, she crept up towards him, the little gate already open. She stood just behind him for a moment before speaking.

"What're you doing?"

Her soft voice nearly caused the redhead to jump out of his trousers. He'd flipped from his elbows to his rear end, his heart practically jumping out of his throat at her sudden appearance. Bug eyes stared up at her black orbs as he sat in shock. After a sudden gulp, the hobbit regained his ability to speak.

"N-nothing Miss," He paused, cracking a weak smile, "J-just gardening i-is all." His eyes never wavered from hers.

She knew that all he could see of her was her eyes floating ominously in the shadow of her black silhouette. That was where everyone stared when the saw her. But the night was her element. She could not help being able to melt into the darkness.

A quiet giggle left her lips. The hobbit's fear evaporated right into confusion. "What's so funny?" He demanded, sitting up with his brow furrowed.

She laughed again, "And what are you planting at this hour? Moon flowers?" The hobbit suddenly stood, pointing a finger at her in accusation.

"Now you wait just a min—UTE-AHHH!!!"

The half-ling was swiftly hoisted into the hobbit hole by a cloaked arm, surprising the hooded female to some degree. Apparently he hadn't been gardening. She stepped forward a ways, glancing in through the open window.

The old man was back, hovering over the stout one. "Confound it all Samwise Gamgee. Have you been eavesdropping?!" The man's voice boomed loudly out of the small window as he hovered over the poor hobbit. She watched in interest as the hobbit replied from the table he'd been slammed against.

"I haven't dropped no eaves sir, honest. I was just replanting the flowers in the window box there." One of his fingers pointed towards the window as his eyes darted in the same direction. The old man glanced outside as well, his eyes meeting a pair of black orbs peering in through the dead flowers.

She cursed aloud, darting out of the view of his widening eyes. Stupid! How could she have gotten caught _again_, and so easily?! What was it with this place that she was no longer fly under the radar?

An abrupt spike of power suddenly erupted from inside the house. Her eyes darted around feverishly as she sprinted to hide. He must have been a wizard to unleash such raw power in close to no time at all. She hid just in time to see the old man burst from the red door and out onto the dirt road.

The wizard had his staff in hand, which was currently letting off a very bright white light, illuminating the night with its incandescent glow. It seemed to reach out and devour every piece shadow and darkness that happened to fall under its path. Pressing herself closer to the large tree she was using as cover, she prayed that the light would quickly diminish. However, she was tempted to see what would happen if poked her toe out into the light. But that temptation was squashed by the thought of the consequence. So she stayed put, motionless as the light licked its way around her.

After a moment, the glow faded away. She let out an unknown breath that she'd been holding; that had been close. This time, she didn't steal a glance to make sure they went back inside. Listening, she waited to hear the door to close behind them. Then she stepped out of the trees gloom. However, she remained partially hidden, not willing to risk overexposure again.

Eyes set ahead, she gazed out across the small dirt path. There were faint muffles coming from inside, and after a moment the door swung back open. The two hobbits came out, and she saw the wizard following behind them. Carefully, she slunk back behind the tree. She felt his eyes roving the landscape, certain that she was still looming in one of the nearby shadows.

She was, but she wasn't going to let that old man know it. So she kept tightly pressed against the tree, listening to them pause once before beginning to walk down the road. They moved in a direction where she could partially see them, one of her hands now resting on the trees bark.

The half-lings were now adorned in cloaks and traveling bags, trailing behind the wizard who had retrieved his horse. Her eyes stared at them, watching them make their way down the dirt path. 'Where are they off too?' She wondered idly. A sudden grin crept its way across her pale face.

Taking a step, she began to leave the security of the trees shadow and set off after them. As she pulled her hand away from the bark, she didn't notice the seared black patch her hand had left in its wake. She merely followed after them, curious now more than ever.

--

He was smart, that wizard. Every few seconds or so, he would look back, as if he knew she was following them. Using her stealth, she stuck close to the shadows, keeping just out of the man's gaze. She was always close enough to see them clearly, but far enough to remain undetected by the wizard. So far, she'd managed to remain unnoticed by the wizard. But whether it was luck or skill, she didn't know, but she honestly didn't care.

A few times she'd almost thought he'd seen her, but a second later, he would turn back around, obviously not yet finding her exact location. The night quickly shifted into early morning, and the group and their stalker were now within a small fern groove.

The old man stopped abruptly, looking back in her direction one last time before turning and speaking to the half-ling. From their expressions, she could tell that they seemed confused, even a bit wary of what he was saying. The wizard offered them a soft smile before mounting his horse, turning around, and nearly running her over in the process.

She didn't know why, but her body seemed petrified when the horse began to trot in her direction. Restraining the urge to yell, she ducked behind a fallen log, jumping over it just in time to see the old wizard make his way by. She glared at him through a hole in the fallen tree.

Was he seriously toying with her, or was he merely getting lucky? While, yes, she would give him credit for getting precariously close to finding her, he was always far off enough where she was still questioning his judgment. But as she watched him disappear from sight, she decided to no longer worry about it. He obviously had somewhere else to be, and that made her little adventure much less strenuous, which she preferred.

With caution, she stepped back over the log, checking down the lane one last time to make sure the wizard had indeed gone. He unsoundly had, and so she took a glance back into the little groove.

The hobbits were now making their way along in the opposite direction. Apparently, Frodo had yet to notice her. Perhaps their last encounters were merely accidents. But this idea did not quench her thirst for the truth; had it been luck, or something else? And besides, someone had to look after them. If no one did, then they left the fate of the world to chance. It was that recurring uncertainty that forced her to follow after them, always silent as she slithered through the fading shadows of the early morning.

--

Time had passed, and the two half-lings were now making their way through a cornfield. Seeing as how the wizard had so kindly left their little traveling party, she followed a bit closer behind the two unsuspecting hobbits. She was still unseen through the tall green plants as she walked down one of the narrow rows, avoiding the beaten path, but still very close to the half-lings. Her ears suddenly perked up, catching a growing rustle coming from her left. She stopped, letting the sound get closer.

Not even ten meters in front of her, two more hobbits burst across her path, quickly bolting out onto the larger trail the other two were on. What was stranger about it was the fact that both were carrying huge armfuls of vegetables, obviously in a hurry. Even through the tall leafy stalks she saw the two parties crash into one another head on. She had to put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing as they tried to right themselves.

They talked for a moment before the boisterous bark of a dog was heard, along with a very angry yell from the farming. The half-lings sudden bolted, the vegetables forgotten on the ground as they high-tailed it through the greenery. Suddenly the party of two had turned into a group of four.

She was quick to follow them, racing through the cornfield just behind them. And as suddenly as the tall green cover was there it was gone. She stopped, suddenly dashing back into the corn to remain hidden. The hobbits, however, kept running. Her eyes widened. They seemed to not notice the large bluff in front of them.

Sure enough, not a second later they were all tumbling down the steep slope. She cursed, leaping out to the bluff's edge. For a moment, they kept rolling, but they soon stopped. Without a second thought, she leapt down the edge, managing to keep her footing as gravity worked its magic on her. Halfway down, she somehow managed to stop behind a tree, her eyes still locked on the half-lings. Peering out from behind the large dogwood, she was happy to see all of them back on their feet. Three of them were huddling around something, but Frodo one was standing motionless, staring off down the road.

A sudden prickle began to trail its way down her spine as a cold wind blew past. She heard Frodo yell, "Get off the road!" Before all of them disappeared, now safely hidden beneath a large overhanging tree root. She watched, now heavily immersed in their actions. All was still for a moment.

And then it arrived.

It was a Black Rider, or an agent of the Dark Lord. It was cloaked in ragged black cloth, metal gloves holding the reigns onto an even more portentous looking beast of a horse. To say, it was nothing comforting. She watched the scene play out, still unmoving as she stared hungrily at the scenario before her.

The Rider suddenly dismounted its ride, walking over toward the side of the road. It kneeled over, hand resting on the top of the over hang. Even at the distance, she could practically smell the fear radiating off the hobbits. It leaned forward, set on checking underneath the overhang. They were going to get caught. The Ring was going to be found.

Without warning, something snapped within her. It was in that same instant that a once faded ability resurfaced with full vigor.

It was in that instant she chose to scream.

But to all of those subject to this shriek would not call it that. To the half-lings and the Black Rider, it was an ear-piercing screech, rocking them at the very core of their beings all while sending a painful chill down each of their spines. The Rider suddenly bolted, remounting its horse before sprinting off down the road, clearly set on getting out of there as fast as possible.

And as quickly as it came, it stopped, the air hanging silent once again as the echoes of her wail faded away into the mid-morning sky. She suddenly fell to the base of the now dead tree, her hands desperately clutching the bark to keep from falling. She was panting heavily, eyes twisted shut, therefore not noticing the familiar pair of sharp blue eyes once again finding a mysterious lock on her location.

His eyes widened, but before the little half-ling could do anything, his comrades called after him. Not wanting to be left behind, the hobbit ran after them, not looking back. It was then, she choose to open her tinted black eyes, finally making a move to follow them. She stumbled down the slope, her mobility suddenly impaired.

As she came to solid ground, she clutched her head. What the hell had she just done? Never mind what, how had she even done that and where in the world had it come from? She had essentially called off the Black Rider!

For a moment she stood, eyes tightly screwed shut again and she tried to force away the oncoming migraine she felt. After a few minutes, she slowly opened her fading black eyes, finally noticing that the half-lings had long since fled the scene. Cursing again, she ran off after them.

If it happened once, it was bound to happen again. Lucky for the hobbits, she was right.

--

It hadn't taken her long to find them again. However, this time she kept at a much closer distance. The sun had long since set, and while she had no trouble seeing perfectly through the darkness (it was yet another one of the many "gifts" she had, as her brother's had called them), she remained much nearer to the little half-lings.

Using the darkness as an advantage, she stayed more out in the open, keeping them in full view at all times. But even with perfect clarity, what she was suddenly witnessing left her wondering if what she saw was real.

It was strange to say the least. Three hobbits were scrambling through the trees surrounding her, obviously in a panic. An unruly whinny averted her attention from the half lings. Looking up the hillside, she saw a familiar large black horse and its ominous rider quickly scaling down the slope after the little ones.

Without warning, an abrupt force crashed into her, knocking the hooded female onto the ground. Quickly righting herself, she stood, looking down. Apparently she'd counted wrong. A familiar head of curly chocolate brown hair and sharp blue eyes looked panicked up at her. Her now black-white eyes also noted an ember ring hanging from a chain on Frodo's neck.

The pulse suddenly returned, echoing loudly throughout her mind. She found herself locked in a stupor, staring at the ring that was dangling from the neck of the befuddled half-ling. The heavy trudging of the black horse faintly knocked her from her thoughts as she blankly glanced towards their pursuer. He was closing in fast.

A sudden fury erupted within her at the thought of Frodo getting caught. Without really thinking much about it, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him upright. "Run!" She yelled. Before the word had even left her mouth he was already sprinting full out down the slope.

Now she wasn't going to just leave his fate in the hands of lady luck, so she trailed behind him once more. He must have had a serious adrenaline rush, because there was now a fairly adequate distance between them and their pursuer. Looking ahead, she saw the other three half-lings on a small raft, encouraging their friend along as he ran.

With his sudden burst of energy helping him along, Frodo leapt over the fence with unnatural ease, continuing in his fast sprint. She easily flew over the wooden spokes as well, slowing only to make sure he kept going. Tailing after the half-ling until he was on the dock, she turned about, stopping on the grass just before wooden pier. Her cloak flew around her, whipping the night air as she came to an abrupt stop. She only looked back to make sure Frodo was safely on the raft, which he was. Turning her attention back around, she stood tall in front of her opponent.

The Rider didn't slow as the horse easily jumped the fence. Her eyes suddenly turned fierce. "You will not touch them!" She yelled, standing firm. However, the Rider didn't slow down.

Without warning, she screamed bloody murder again.

Just as before, she didn't know why, she just did. But she once again did not see the hobbits cover their ears in pain nor did she notice the light crackle of black energy sprout lightly around her. Her fists were balled at her sides and her eyes tightly closed. It lasted maybe ten seconds, but that was more than enough time. As soon as she stopped, the Rider squealed before hastily turning around and riding off into the night yet again. Within the short time, all was quiet, save for the constant gurgle from the river.

Her head hurt again. She slid one of her hands up into her hair, pressing it against her skull. She then decided to not try that again; whatever it was. Sighing, she turned around, her head still pounding quietly as her hand fell back to her side.

Looking up, she saw four sets of wide eyes locked on her cloaked form. She laughed quietly, waving to them before turning around and walking back into the forest, trying her best to ignore the growing headache she was about to have.

As she left, a sudden yell came from one of the hobbits, "We are headed for Bree!" Stopping, she turned back to see Frodo with his hands cupped over his mouth. "Please, meet us there!" He hollered again. The other three seemed aghast, obviously wondering why he'd told her that _and_ to meet them there.

They began whispering to one another. Frodo spoke to them, but she could not, for whatever reason, hear his words. She laughed quietly again, nodding towards the group before once again melting into the shadow of the forest, all but disappearing from their view.

--

At the rate they were going, they'd get to Bree in an hour or so. It hadn't taken her that much time to arrive on foot, and she didn't mind waiting. What she did mind was the torrent of rain that was now pouring down on her as she stood just outside the town's entrance gate. Grumbling under her breath, she silently slipped into the village behind a small cart, hiding in its shadow. As soon as the cart was inside, she trailed off again, making her way along the muddied streets, already soaked to the bone.

If there was one good thing about the rain, it was that no one looked at her. In this weather, most people were cloaked, looking the same with their dark attire to prevent the rain from penetrating onto their skin. At the moment, she was just another drenched soul making her way along the road.

She walked alongside the road, her eyes quickly spotting the inn. Hastening her steps, she arrived at the front door, stepping inside.

It was a loud with people all bustling past one another and such. A drunken man was being shoved out the door, and she was quick to more out of the way. She then fluidly walked towards a table in the far off corner, seating herself. She was thankful that the place was rather dimly lit, almost completely covering up the eerie glow of her eyes. A shadow was also draping the dark corner, making her feel a bit more comfortable in the midst of the bars commotion.

Not to her surprise, people were staring at her. Rolling her eyes, she watched a plump bartender approach her. He stood motionless in front of her for a moment, obviously nervous. A hush came over the crowd of people as they watched the scene play out.

Moistening his lips, he spoke. "What'd ya like to drink Miss?" There was a pause. "We just got a specialty ale in, so…" He trailed off, sweating. It seemed that the entire bar was holding their breath for the man.

"Wine." They breathed. "Red, please." She said coolly. Face now exceptionally flush, the bartender nodded, hastily running back to the bar. Well, these people obviously knew who she was despite the darkness and attempted cover-ups. Suppressing a sigh, a hint of a frown made its way across her pale lips, which was still downed in the hoods shadow. She couldn't take off her cloak, even though she was thoroughly soaked. The last thing she needed was more people gaping at her.

The female glanced up to see a glass of wine being placed in front of her. She reached into one of her pockets, pulling a few coins out. Setting them on the table, she watched the bartender take them before nodding once and then scuttling away again. A pale hand came out, taking hold of the glass. Lifting the glass to her lips, she took a sip, her headache already fading.

Old Winyard. Twelve ninety-six. She couldn't help but smile to herself a bit, once again getting lost in a chain of memories. She may well remember that she and her brothers had once (or perhaps even a few times) had a drinking contest. To say, she'd wiped the floor with them on all accounts and she hadn't even gotten tipsy. Her hand absent-mindedly returned the glass to the table.

A quiet murmur had come back to the other folk accommodating the bar, losing interest in the strange female after a while. A half hour passed. Soon the prior roar came back up to par and everyone was once again immersed in his or her own conversations. Her wine glass was still almost completely full when the door opened again.

Once again, the vociferous conversation quieted to nothing more than whispers when another cloaked character entered the bar. Quietly making his way towards her, all eyes were once again dancing between her and this new shifty figure. She caught a man whispering to one of his friends, "She's in his seat."

One of her eyebrows rose beneath her hood. Now this was interesting. Apparently he was just as "renowned" as she was. Just who was he? Her eyes bore out at him, watching him as he approached.

He stopped right in front of the table, his face as masked like hers. Faint stubble darkened his chin and a definite frown marred his lips. She couldn't help but smile. 'Let's make things a bit more interesting.' She thought coyly.

Lifting her glass back up into her fingers, taking another small drink. She'd mess with him a little, "Is there something you need?" Her only answer was silence. Someone coughed. Snickering, she swirled the red liquid around for a moment. "What?" She was grinning, "Cat got your tongue?"

Even beneath the cloak, she could tell that he was rolling his eyes at her. Perhaps it was the expression he momentarily flashed that gave it way. Either way, he knew she wasn't moving. Pulling a chair back, he sat down causing another wave of whispers to sprout across the room. He pulled out a pipe, stuffing some smoke into it before lighting it.

"So what brings you here on this fine evening?" She inquired, taking another large drink from her goblet. Through the light of the burning weed, she saw him raise an eyebrow towards her. She laughed quietly, "I have an unparalleled tolerance for alcohol, so no, that's not the wine talking."

Removing the wooden pipe from his mouth, he spoke. His voice was slightly gruff, but soft. "No reason."

"You're lying." Came her immediate response. His eyes narrowed. "No one travels out in this kind of weather without reason. I would know." She finished, gesturing out the window nearby. A crack of lighting illuminated the dark sky, lighting up both of their faces with the spontaneous eruption of brightness.

As if on cue, both of their eyes widened. "_Lle_!" _**(You!)**_ She whispered harshly, letting her tongue flip to Elvin. She knew he understood her.

"_Mani naa lle umien sinome?!" __**(What are you doing here?!)**_ He snorted, speaking humanely for the first time. Although, she would hardly say it was civilized.

"_Atya' ten' lle." __**(I could ask you the same.)**_ He was irritated now, his pipe forgotten on the table. Venom and disgust were dripping from his words. _"Mani tuloa lle a' sina yamen? __**(What brings you to this place?)**_

His voice still retained it's potency as the volume in his words dropped to a harsh whisper._ "Man poika gwaith lle lema sinome a' ndengina?" __**(Which innocent people did you come here to kill?)**_

Rage was rapidly beginning to bubble up within her. He new nothing of what she did. Nothing! Nonetheless, she forced herself to keep from lashing out at him. Grasping the glass, she downed the rest of her wine. Setting the now emptied goblet back on the table, she gave her retort. _"Mankoi lle gorga vanwa sen, taur'ohtar?" __**(Why do you worry over them, ranger?)**_ A bittersweet smile cracked its way across her lips as she leaned across the table, her words coming off as a sick hiss.

"_Lle n'uma tua sen." __**(It's not like you can save them.)**_She suddenly stood, pushing her chair back to leave. "Goodbye Strider." She'd had enough of him all ready, and right now was not the time for her to be dealing with him.

"You did not answer my question, _Drifter_." She was now standing, frozen. He could tell she was using every ounce of will power she had to keep from strangling him. He could see her clenched fists shaking in her efforts.

After a moment, she spoke, although through clenched teeth. "Have you ever heard the phrase, curiosity killed the cat?" His prying cat performance was getting to her. At the moment, she wanted to kill him for it. She was surprised, however, to see a faint smirk etch its way across the ranger's face.

"And satisfaction brought it back." Her eyes widened, locking with his. He was just toying with her now. She did not care to be messed with. He only smiled devilishly, knowing he had won.

There was a sudden crash sounding throughout the bar. Everyone in the room jumped, looked directly towards the cause of the sound. Drifter's white fist had slammed into the forgotten wine glass, instantly shattering it. Blood was trickling from her hand, shards of glass lying across the table.

She pulled down, hissing at him. "It would be in your best interest, _Strider_," she stressed his name angrily, "If you finished your questioning." She paused, a sick grin lining her lips once again.

"Actually, I dare you to continue. But then you might find yourself with a second shadow." Her words were promising, a smirk dancing across her lips at the irony of her words. She then pulled back, walking out of the small corner. A hand suddenly grasped her wrist, preventing her from leaving.

"_Tessa no'." __**(Hold on.)**_He ordered. She twitched. Now he decided to keep their conversation private? _"Lle cam." __**(Your hand.)**_ His words were surprisingly quiet. Drifter came back, standing in front of him.

Looking blankly at the wound, she saw numerous chunks of glass protruding from the side of her hand, one even pinning the end of her cloaks sleeve to her flesh. Grabbing a particularly large piece, she pulled, ripping it clean from her white skin, tearing the end of her cloak. She continued this six or seven times until all of the larger shards had been removed, dropping them all onto the table. Not once did she flinch. Nor did her expression change from the cold dead stare it harbored.

After a moment, she stopped, her eyes analyzing the wound. Drifter then let her hand fall back to her side, turning around and stalking away. Strider was confused; that was it?

"_Ier il lle autaien a' fallani' ta?" __**(Aren't you going to heal it?)**_ He asked, silently amazed with her lack of reaction. She glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes set in a lifeless stare.

"_Amin il cuela a'." __**(I have no need to.)**_ Drifter circled back, the torn sleeve allowing Strider a glimpse of her hand. His eyes turned large once more.

The wound was completely healed. There was no sign of injury anywhere save for the faint blood that still clung to her skin. But he couldn't tell if it was her miraculous healing abilities or her blood that left him breathless. While he had never seen such a fast process of healing, her blood was something else.

Unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

It was black. Like raw tar, but more fluid, alive in its own way. Amongst the pile of glass, her blood stuck, sending a quiet chill down the man's spine as it dripped onto the table. His eyes trailed after Drifter as she sauntered across the large room, eyes once again locked on her. He would nearly go so far as to say that there was a black crackle of air following her as she walked off.

The Drifter was, however, too furious to really care about any of these possible tribulations at this point. Sitting down at another table, she glared heatedly at him across the room. Her eyes only averted from him when the door opened again, another half hour later.

Glancing up she saw four soaked hobbits walk in, talking quietly to the bartender. She stood, but after a moment sat back down, her eyes locked on Frodo. Deciding to test a theory she had come up with, she set her eyes set in a dead stare as she moved forward with the test.

Sure enough, after a few seconds the hobbit's blue eyes were dancing there way around the bar, trying to find which pair of eyes were boring holes through him. After another five seconds, he found her.

Eyes widening in what she guessed would be surprise, Frodo turned back to his friends, whispering to them. They all followed his gaze and soon four sets of eyes were looking at her. One of them said something, but over the roar of the crowd Drifter could not hear. The place had filled up over the past half hour and at the moment she was just trying to block it all out. However, she ignored the boisterous crowd and kept her eyes on the half-lings. The other three nodded before all of them began to make their way across the bar towards her.

It took them a moment, but soon the little group was standing in front of her, all dripping wet from being outside. Three of them were clearly weary of her, but Frodo was quick to speak to her.

"Thank you for meeting us here." He said earnestly. Sitting down beside her, he removed his soaked cloaked. After seating himself, he gestured to his companions, "I'm Frodo. These are my friends; Sam, Pippin and Merry." He sat down beside her; not knowing the looks was he receiving from the other occupants in the bar.

The others glanced to one another before doing the same. The stout one, who if she recalled was Sam, sat to the other side of Frodo, with Merry and Pippin, who looked eerily alike, on the bench opposite the trio.

As the two across from her were sitting down, Drifter spoke. "Why did you request to meet me here little one?" The other three looked startled that she had spoken. "From the looks on your companion's faces I would say did not think it wise of you to ask such a thing."

They were even more surprised when Frodo calmly replied. "I wanted to ask you something things." She looked down at him, waiting for him to continue. His blue eyes bore into hers. "What were you doing at my uncle's party that night? And why did you follow me up to his house afterwards?" So he had found her. But oh no, this little hobbit had more to ask. "And why have you been following us all this time?" Interesting. The others exchanged confused glances.

A soft smile graced her lips. "Curiosity I suppose." She laughed a little, their befuddled expressions humoring her. "Not many people can catch me off guard like you did Frodo, and I was wondering if it was luck, or something else that allowed you to see me."

The round one spoke, "What do you mean? Cannot everyone see you?" He suddenly paled. "Are you some kind of ghost?" She laughed again.

"I can assure you Sam, I am no a ghost. But if I do not wish to be seen, you will not see me." She gestured towards Frodo. "But your friend here managed to catch me off guard countless times, when even most rangers," her eyes glanced back across the room. Strider was smoking again, staring at them intently. She smirked, "have difficulty tracking me."

"Not to be nosey or anything, but why would you have rangers tracking you?" Pippin said, his round features extending his show of curiosity.

"That is a story for another time. For now, enjoy yourselves. If what happened earlier this evening is to ever repeat itself, you may not find another chance to do so." She said, offering him a smile. Pippin seemed to accept this answer before standing up.

"Frodo, Sam; would you like anything?" The two nodded. Merry looked towards her, "And would you like something to drink Miss, um—"

"Drifter," she said, "and no thank you, I had some wine while I was waiting for you to arrive." He responded with a small 'oh' before getting up with his friend and walking up to the bar. Frodo, unrelenting in his questioning, turned towards her again.

"How long were you waiting?" He asked.

She shrugged, "About an hour. Nothing to terrible." She mentally snorted. Terrible no, frustrating yes. Time to change the topic. "But how was it coming here? With this weather it must have been tough."

The half-ling nodded, speaking in a hushed tone. "It was. We had to be careful to make sure the Black Riders weren't following us."

"Not to mention the rain. It was probably the biggest hindrance. Couldn't see ten feet in front of you." Sam commented. "All you need was some soap and you'd be set to take a bath out there." His words got a laugh from her. Both looked at her quizzically.

"What's so funny?" Frodo asked.

"Your words sparked a fond memory is all." Her features suddenly turned soft. "Of my brothers." A frown suddenly was presented to them. "Whom I have not seen them in a very long time." Now that she thought about it, when was the last time she had gone home? How long had she been away?

"Well, when was the last time you saw them?" Sam inquired.

"About four years I would say." She laughed quietly to herself. "Goodness knows what they think happened to me. They're probably worried sick about me by now."

"They're family." Frodo said, catching her eye. "It's their job to worry about you." She smiled down at him, and he returned the gesture. They both looked up to see a plate of food and four beers being set on the table.

Merry grabbed a mug, quickly sitting down and picking up a drumstick. In between bites, he spoke, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm hungry." The others laughed quietly, soon joining in on the meal. The Hobbits made small talk with one another while Drifter merely sat, enjoying the peaceful scene. However, it was Merry seemed to notice her lack of participation.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" He asked, finishing off his beer. Now all of them were looking at her. She put a hand up in defense.

"It is your food, not mine."

"Eat something." Sam said, taking a large gulp from his mug. "I'd feel like a pig if you didn't." She laughed once more.

"Alright." Agreeing, she grabbed a piece of bread, eating it slowly. They all seemed satisfied with this. Merry suddenly stood up, quickly having all of their eyes upon him.

"Well, I'm going to get another ale." He looked to them. "Anyone else want anything?" They all shook their heads and he bounced off. They all chuckled as they watched him go.

Drifter suddenly arose from her seat, the half-lings eyes following her. She would see how much they needed her. "Well, Frodo, if that was all you wanted to ask of me, I will take my leave. It was nice meeting you." Much to her silent delight, a hand grasped the fabric of her cloak.

"Wait!" Frodo proclaimed, his hand latched on to her cloak. She looked down at him. "Please, don't leave. At least not yet." Sam and Pippin exchanged glances again. "Our friend was supposed to meet us here, but he has yet to arrive." She felt another pair of eyes on here. These were boring fiery holes into her back. Drifter ignored them for the moment.

"Alright Frodo, I will stay for now." She then reseated herself, earning a soft smile from the half-ling. He replied with a thank you. She nodded once before trailing her eyes back over to the dim corner.

Strider was still there, staring at them, or more, her. And much to her delight, he looked absolutely livid. Snickering to herself she wondered what was irking him so much about her being with the half-lings.

It wasn't like she was going to botch them. If anything, she wanted to help them with their little quest. Besides, they had done nothing to her. Therefore she had no reason to harm them. Although she doubted they could do anything even if they tried. Merry suddenly returned, a very large mug in hand. Pippin looked amazed.

"What's that?" He asked, eyes wide.

"This, my friend, is a pint." Merry then took a large sip from the mug, taking off the top foam.

"It comes in pints?" Pippen questioned, aghast. But before anyone could reply, he stood; mind set, "I'm getting one." He was already halfway to the bar when Sam spoke.

"But you've already had a whole half!" He bellowed, but his words fell on deaf ears. Frodo chuckled at him. Sam shook his head, his eyes turning over to stare at the second shrouded figure the bar had. He nudged Frodo, "That fellow's done nothing but stare at us since we've arrived." Both of them were surprised when their new female acquaintance spoke almost immediately after the comment was made.

"He's a ranger. They're dangerous, always wandering the wilds and such." Her voice was deadly calm. "I've never heard him called by his real name, but most people know him as Strider." During this, her eyes locked with ranger's, glaring. She would've gladly kept up the staring match, but a sudden laugh from the bar caught her attention.

"Baggins?" It was Pippin, drunk and talking to some other men at the bar. "Sure I know a Baggins. He's over there, Frodo Baggins." Said hobbit stood, quickly making his way over to Pippin to shut him up. "He's my second cousin, once removed on my mother's side. And my third cousin twice removed on my father's side, if you follow me. " Frodo was dodging around people in his attempts to shut his friend up.

"Pippin!" Frodo exclaimed, grabbing his friend by the shoulder. His eyes danced through the crowd, now weary.

The other hobbit wobbled in his seat a bit. "Steady on Frodo." Without warning, Frodo tumbled backwards. Drifter watched as a faint glimmer of the Ring few up into the air as Frodo reached out to grab for it. Her mind had but an instant to understand just what ring he possessed before it slipped onto his finger, his image disappearing from view all while entering a paralleled world.

People gasped, mumbling to themselves as to what had just transpired. The other hobbit's now realized their mistake, eyes wide in concern. Across the bar, Strider stood, slinking across the bar.

But for Drifter, a much different scenario played. Her eyes were beginning to bleed black from the pupil outwards, further staining the whites of her eye. Her tainted orbs seemed to follow an invisible figure as it walked its way across the bar. He had it! He had the One Ring! She stood, following after the unseen figure, the crowd parting for her as she passed. Her head didn't hurt this time. In fact, what she felt was far from pain.

It was euphoria. This feeling was like an addictive drug, asking for more. And she couldn't help but want to comply just to keep the feeling there for a bit longer. But just as she was upon the figure, the feeling stopped, and she let out a dry gasp, the room suddenly a rushed blur. Her hands instantly made a reach for something, anything stable to keep her from falling. Luckily, a chair was near and she grabbed its back, only falling to one knee. She sat panting for a moment, her eyes reverting to the normal state as she tried to regain her composure.

Faint drops of sweat were trickling their way down her face as she peered back across the room. Eyes were once again on her, but she stood stiffly, partially glaring at the rude onlookers. Her white-black orbs danced across the room, noticing three hobbits hastily make their way over to her. They stood in front of her, looking pale.

"Where is Frodo?" She asked. Even to herself her voice sounded hoarse. She swallowed, listening to Sam speak.

"That Strider man took him upstairs." He said. Without a second thought she turned on heel, walking over to the narrow stairway, the three remaining half-lings trailing close behind her.

She took it three steps at a time. She was _livid_. First, he shows up, ruining her peaceful evening, pissing her off, making her hurt herself in the process and now making off with one of the half-lings. And the unique one who has possession of the Ring nonetheless! Growling, she grasped the brass doorknob, letting the door fly open.

None of them knew how she did it, but when they next blinked, Drifter had flown across the room. A sleek blade suddenly appeared from underneath her cloak and was now tightly pressed against the opposing ranger's throat. Her eyes were two blazing infernos, aimed directly at the ranger.

His hood was down, giving them a view of his worn features. His damp brown hair waved softly down to the top of his shoulders, his persistent brown eyes locked with the white-black orbs that were now glaring heatedly at him in a fury.

Her words were low and drenched in pure anger. "Back off filth." Those three words hung in the air as a dangerous threat. All of their eyes were wide. "You have no business with us." There was a pause. "Leave."

The ranger showed no fear. "I know what hunts you." Her eyes narrowed.

"And what, do you want to help us?" He nodded, trying to ignore the sharp blade that was currently pressed against his jugular. She snorted, "Why?"

"Because you know nothing of their true power. If you continue on as you are, you will eventually fall to their corruption. Let me help you." Their eyes blared against one another before she growled again, sheathing her sword. The hobbits all let out a breath, thankful there had been no bloodshed. But that didn't stop her from holding a grudge.

"Fine." She spat, still glaring at him. Taking a step, she stood beside him. "Lead the way." She gestured towards the stairs. Strider eyed her wearily before making his way down the narrow passage. The half-lings followed behind him, Drifter follow close behind as the ranger led them away.

* * *

**Standard Disclaimer: **I don't own InuYasha or Lord of the Rings.

* * *

"_But then you might find yourself with a second shadow."_

--

_**Important Note #1**_: This entire story takes place after the InuYasha quest comes to a close, which has already happened in Japan. For those of you who already know that, then you're fine. But for those of you who are out of the loop with that, I will warn you now, there may be a few spoilers in the future. I'm not promising anything; I just wanted to warn you.

_**Important Note #2:**_ From now on, _Elvin_ will be seen on and off within this story. While some phrases are direct word-for-word translations, others aren't and are derivatives of root words and/or the main ideas of what I'm trying to have the characters say. I will try to get them as up to par as I can so please bare with me even though they're not perfect.

I told you it would be longer, but there was a price to pay for the length; time. Sorry it took so long to update and if you find it just a filler chapter, sorry there too. And thank you to those who reviewed. You all refueled my urge to get this posted after an almost two month hiatus! But now that we're actually starting to get to the good part, hopefully things won't take as long.

Until later


	4. An Accord

Chapter Four

_An Accord_

It was quiet in the new room Strider had gotten for them. This building was just across the street from the Prancing Pony, and still the torrential downpour hailed down on the roof and walls around them. All of the half-lings were asleep save for Frodo, who stood near the rooms only window, gazing through the fogged windowpane as the droplets of rain continued to smash against it. After still not seeing anything of interest worth staring at out the window, the half-ling sighed, his gaze wandering back across the room. His eyes then landed on the other two people in the room.

Now, if there wasn't something interesting going on outside, he could assume right then that there was something going on between these two. Even from where he was standing, he could almost feel the tension building between them. Their glares were searing hot as they bounced of each other, intimidation proving to be fruitless on their opponent.

"Why do you two have such a problem with one another?" Frodo inquired, snapping the silent duo back to reality. The two glanced at one another for having been caught in their silent battle. After a second, they looked back towards the inquisitive half-ling.

"It's not that we have a _problem_ with one another Frodo." Strider answered, his tone soft. His brown eyes blazed to life again as they returned to the only female occupant of the room. "It's just that I have a problem with what she _does_."

A light snort came from Drifter. Her arms were folded across her chest as she leaned against the wall behind her. "I have tried to explain myself on countless occasions, but whenever I do, you run at me with your sword before I even get a chance to try and speak."

"What you do _has_ no explanation." Strider retorted angrily. His hand had already made its way to the hilt of his sword, fully prepared to prove Drifter's previous statement to be correct.

"Sorry to interrupt but what exactly is it that you do, Drifter?" By this point the little hobbit was very interested, his eyes gleaming with excitement and curiosity. Neither of them answered. He shuffled across the room towards them as he asked his question again. "Well? What is it?"

Strangely enough, both Strider and Drifter glanced at one another, apprehension apparent in their eyes. Frodo felt his brow furrow when they began to speak to one another in what he assumed to be Elvish. Although this time their eyes were wary and their voices soft as they whispered strange words to one another.

After a moment, their private conversation ended and Drifter spoke, "It's… _complicated_ Frodo."

The half-ling didn't miss a beat and was quick to voice his opinion. "And you two are going to make it _more_ complicated if you don't explain yourselves." The duo eyed him curiously, wondering what he was trying to get at. "If we can't work together, then the Ring might be discovered and returned to its master." The half-ling's hand unconsciously reached for the tawny colored band around his neck. Drifter's hand unconsciously twitched ever so slightly, but she didn't register the slight action. She caught at glimpse of the amber object before it was encased in a small hand. She blinked. None of them noticed this small occurrence.

The half-ling continued. "So you can either put your issues aside, or fix whatever problems lie between you so we can carry on safely, without having to worry about you two turning against each other. And if you're not going to do this for each other, do it for the sake of Middle Earth and the safe transportation of the Ring."

There was a slight pause between Frodo's speech and the words spoken by Strider. "Those are wise words coming from one so young." The half-ling looked away, embarrassed at the compliment.

"But he is right Strider." Came the repressed voice of Drifter. "For my sake, I wish to explain myself… if you'll let me, that is." Her eyes turned hard at the last words, waiting for the ranger to respond or for his hand to return to the hilt of his sword.

The man sighed, letting his hand fall to his side. "Alright, but—"

Without warning, a series of bone tingling screeches echoed throughout the town. To be more precise, it was coming from the Prancing Pony. Frodo was quick to the window, alerted by the sudden occurrence. Strider followed him, gazing out through the rain beaten glass. "What are they?" Frodo said, still staring out the window in astonishment. The others had awoken from the screams, catching their conversation all while listening intently in silence.

"They were once great kings of men." Strider's face was clam as he told the story. "Then Sauran gave them nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question. One, by one they fell to the darkness." He continued to look out the window to see the fallen kings riding off into the night, "They are now slaves of his will. They will never stop searching for the Ring, for they are drawn to its power. They are the Nazqûl."

"Also known as Ringwraiths." The now cracking voice of Drifter added. Her skin had somehow grown slightly flush and only then did they notice that their female companion was slouching on the floor against the wall. Frodo bounded away from the window and to her side across the room.

"Are you alright?" Came the immediate question of worry. Everyone's hair was still standing on end, but as Frodo reached for Drifter's hand, he flinched just as his fingers grazed her skin. He withdrew his hand as a new round of goose bumps ran across his skin. "You're cold as ice!" The other occupants of the room were now crowded behind the curly haired half-ling. Strider kneeled down as well, bringing his hand up to her sweaty brow. The other hobbits looked on over his shoulder.

"You act as if you have been running for your life." He commented, his hand coming to land on her forehead calmly. An abrupt freezing sensation shot through his hand and began to make its way up his arm upon contact with her still moderately flush skin. "And yet you are as cold as death." Strider made an effort to make eye contact, but her eyes were closed as she sat panting. He drew back his hand when she started to speak.

"I know." She said in between breaths. Beads of sweat were dripping down her brow by this point. She carried on. "My body has been dead like this for as long as I can remember." All eyebrows furrowed in befuddlement at her words.

"What do you mean?" Pippin asked inquisitively.

Only then did she open her eyes, which were still partially shrouded by her jet-black bangs. She swallowed, forcing herself to calm down while gesturing him towards her. "Come here." The half-ling did as asked, stepping forward and kneeling down in front of her. Gently, she grabbed the hem of his sleeve, bringing it up to her chest, leaving his hand just above her left breast.

"What do you feel Pippin?" Her voice was soft, a tint of misery lying hidden in her words. He stared at her quizzically for a moment.

"Nothing."

She let out a bittersweet laugh, letting her head roll back and bang against the wall behind her. "Exactly," Her voice came out as no more than a ghostly whisper. For a moment he half-ling stared at her tormented expression before realizing just what her words entailed. Pippin jumped back, almost knocking his other companions over in realization. His eyes looked panicked as he held his hand up to he own chest.

"Y-you have no heartbeat, a-and yet y-you—you—you…!" The hobbit was too shocked to continue, his entire body trembling at the sudden realization. Sam and Merry stood beside their terrified friend, looks of shock and fear evident on the faces.

"How is that possible?" Came the quiet voice of Frodo, who had yet to move from his place beside her. His voice was nearly inaudible, and his hands balled into fists on his knees at he sat before her. Again, a quiet, but utterly pain-laden laugh escaped her blue lips.

"I have wondered the exact same thing for the past seventeen years." She paused, her hair falling in front of her eyes. "

"I lack a pulse and yet, here I am with you; _alive_ as the rest of you. I can talk, move, laugh, and cry just as any other creature." As she spoke, she stressed the word alive, speaking it as if it was some new word she had only recently learned. Sighing one last time, Drifter's breathing had finally returned to normal, her eyes fogged over in thought. But it was also painfully obvious that she had gone over this question a million times before.

"And yet, I am neither living nor dead." She seemed to slouch even further into the wall, her breathing and skin returning to their abnormal natural state. Drifter let out a heavy breath. "Go back to sleep little ones," Her voice came off as a quiet murmur as she ran a hand through her hair, "I will explain myself, but not now. Please just try and sleep." The excitement of the moment died and the half-lings glanced at one another before standing and making their way back to their beds. "That includes you too Frodo." Drifter added, noting that the hobbit had yet to move from beside her.

"She is right." Strider began, standing and letting a hand come to rest on the motionless hobbit's shoulder. "We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow, and you will need all of your strength. Come Frodo. Get some sleep while you can." Frodo looked towards the now silent Drifter, his gaze more questioning than ever before. However, everyone knew that they would get no further on understanding each other that night. So, the half-ling stood, walking towards one of the beds as instructed. He, along with the others, lay down and tried to rest for the upcoming day.

The soft tapping of the rain was quick to put Sam and Merry to sleep, but Frodo and Pippin lay awake for a while, their minds full of questions. Drifter had yet to move from her place on the floor, and Strider had placed himself near the window, keeping a weathered eye out for trouble. He glanced between the motionless female and the two restless half-lings. Both hobbits were tossing and turning, obviously unable to sleep. But Strider wasn't sure as to which was worse, two troubled half-lings or the distressed female. He mentally sighed; he would try and fix this.

Standing, the ranger made his way across the room, kneeling before the static Drifter. She made no move to look up at him and remained inert. He sighed, soundlessly kneeling down and bringing his hand up to her neck. He forced his fingers to remain against her icy flesh as they pressed softly against her jugular. After a moment he drew back, surprised that she had not lashed out at him. In fact, she had not moved at all. Her bangs once again were covering her eyes from him. She obviously was lost to her thoughts. Strider pulled back, letting his hands rest on his knees.

"You may not have a pulse, but that doesn't mean you don't have a heart." His words caused her to tilt her head up ever so slightly, allowing their eyes to meet between her frayed bangs.

These words were unexpected, especially to hear them coming from Strider. "I know," She answered quietly, "My brothers tell me the exact same thing. And yet I still can't help but wonder…" Her voice trailed off as her eyes started to become distant again.

Strider interjected, trying to keep her from returning to her catatonic state. "Wonder what?" He asked. As they spoke, neither of them noticed to two sets of eyes watching them from in between the covers of their beds. They silently listened in as the conversation continued.

"Just what am I?" It was almost as if she were questioning the very air around her. Yet she knew she would get no answer. Three sets of eyes stared at her quizzically as she continued on with her banter. "My body refuses to perform any of the things required to qualify as alive. Eating, sleeping, feeling pain, having a heartbeat, looking like a walking corpse…" There was a definite pause. "Just what am I, that I am able to do such things?" A bitter laugh once again came from her cracked lips. "I'm just some twisted creature—"

"That is a lie." Strider cut in immediately. Her eyes danced upwards to meet his, questioning his words. At the same time, they begged him to back up his previous statement. His eyes locked with hers sincerely. "I have seen many twisted things in this world, but you are far from one of them. And we both know not to judge someone by the stature or appearance, for anyone, great or small, can make the biggest difference." His gaze stole towards Frodo, who was startled by the eyes now staring at him and pulled the covers over his face. Strider chuckled under his breath, his eyes landing back on the now contemplative Drifter.

His words earned a sigh from the female. "I suppose. But both things great and small can also be the most dangerous of all." Her white-black eyes also landed the pile of blankets that covered the now dozy blue-eyed half-ling. Her stare was trying to penetrate through the blankets and catch a glimpse of what her subconscious knew was hanging from the chain on Frodo's neck.

Strider watched her expression flicker through countless emotions before her gaze finally met back up with his. They both just stared at one another for a moment before Drifter let her eyes fall shut as she tried to relax. Strider yawned and a small round of snores came from the half-lings.

Drifter let out a soft laugh, "You should rest as well ranger. I'll hold down the fort until morning." Strider was about to protest when she interrupted, "I don't need to sleep remember? You on the other hand, do." The ranger's mouth closed, knowing she was right. He then stood, offering her his hand. She glanced up at him for a second before taking it, allowing him to help her up. They stared at each other for a moment before Strider spoke yet again.

"I will put my grievances aside for now." The ranger glanced at the now sleeping blue-eyed hobbit, "Frodo is right. We cannot afford to let our personal issues become a hindrance during this journey, or we will run the risk of losing the Ring. We can settle these things once we reach a safer place." The man then strode across the room, settling himself in a chair near the door.

"And just where do you have in mind that qualifies as a safe?" She asked, now perched beside the window.

"Rivendell." The man's eyes were closed so he didn't get to see Drifter's eyes widen. Her eyes looked like glowing spheres in the midst of the darkness. She repeated the name of their to-be safe haven, letting out yet another chary breath. Her gaze turned towards the outer world, the rain still pattering away at the window. But she couldn't help but let a quiet smile drift across her face.

As of now, there was a silent treaty hanging between them. Until proven guilty, he would lay off on trying to slice her into a thousand bits, and she would not do anything to further anger him. Frodo was right; they had more important things to worry about than their own personal troubles. It was this idea of momentary peace between them that calmed her fried nerves, allowing Drifter's mind to relax as she waited for morning to arrive so the group to begin their journey to the city of the elves.

* * *

Standard Disclaimer: I don't own InuYasha or Lord of the Rings.

* * *

_You may not have a pulse, but that doesn't mean you don't have a heart._

--

I know it's short; actually, this is only a small chunk what I intended the original chapter to be, but I hadn't updated in so long that I just had to post _something_. And I know that if anything, this chapter only sprouted more questions, and I'm sorry, but they will have to wait until the appropriate time of reveal within the story before they're answered. I'm not one to give away and ending, let alone bits and pieces.

Reviews are most appreciated.

Until later


	5. Opposing Forces

Chapter Five

_Opposing Forces_

Days had passed. She was not sure of exactly how many, but it was enough to know that the seasons were once again beginning their yearly change. The development of yellows, oranges, and reds were starting to stain the green leaves on the trees and the air had grown colder since the beginning of their travels. Luckily, they had managed to keep a good pace over the course of their journey and had arrived at the old watchtower of Amon Sûl. The abandoned lookout had become their resting place for the evening.

Strider had wandered off after volunteering to take a look around to make sure they place was safe. Before he had departed, he gave each of the half-lings a blade and ordered for them to stay put until he returned. As he walked off, he had cast Drifter a knowing glance, silently asking her to make sure the half-lings kept out of trouble.

She sat near the edge of the crumbling watchtower, her eyes constantly drifting between the ever darkening sky and the half-lings. At one point, she noticed Frodo had managed to fall asleep, obviously tired from their countless days of travel. However, when she noticed the remaining three half-lings began whispering about a hot meal, she arose from her place, silently making her way over to the scheming group.

Sure enough, as she walked up behind them, she found a small mound of twigs and kindling piled up, with Merry fully prepared to strike the flint in his hand. The half-ling jumped slightly as she seemed to walk straight out of the shadows. All of them were now staring up at her as she hovered over them.

"Just what are you doing little ones?" She inquired.

Merry was quick to answer, his stomach seeming to have taken over his mouth, "We're trying to get a fire going so we can cook some of the food we brought." He made a move to strike the flint, but a pale hand was quick to stop the action. The others almost jumped at the unseen movement.

"That would not be wise." Drifter claimed, letting go of his hands, unknowingly leaving the hobbit with a somewhat icy tingle on his skin. The trio sighed dejectedly.

"Then what are we supposed to eat?" Sam asked as his stomach growled painfully. Drifter stood up and began to rummage through one of their packs. After a moment, she returned with a small armful of food. She handed each of them some of the parcels and then sat down in front of them. They all stared between her and the rations put in front of them.

"Well, go on then. Eat up," Drifter chimed in, gesturing for them to eat. Merry sighed and picked up one of the tomatoes that were resting in his lap before he readily sunk his teeth into its red flesh. The others did the same, knowing their option of a hot meal had been terminated. They ate in silence and listened to the sound of the wind as it whipped around them, sending a fresh round of chills down their tired spines. Drifter was not unresponsive to their actions and once again returned to the packs.

By the time she had returned, the trio had all but inhaled all of the food she had offered them. As she walked back with the blankets in hand, she noticed that they were now sitting near the back wall to the overhang they were under, trying to hide from the invasive wind. Drifter tossed the blankets over their shoulders, hoping to help them fight the night's cold air.

"Rest. It will do you much good to have eaten and slept before we continue on tomorrow." She pulled the blankets tight around them, making sure no cold air could weave its way in between the mound of blankets and half-lings. Glancing out over the ever-darkening sky. Her eyebrows knitted together after a moment of thought.

She turned back towards the dosing half-lings. Frodo had yet to move from his place. He was obviously still exhausted. Drifter continued, "I'm going to try and find Strider. He's been gone long enough. And if it's not too much to ask, stay out of trouble. I won't be gone long."

Drifter began to walk off towards one of the crumbling staircases when a she heard a small voice pipe out. Although, upon hearing the words, she realized that these words were not intended for her to hear. "It's not our fault trouble always seems to find us." She couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head as she bound her way up the stairs.

After climbing the rather decayed stairs, Drifter found herself atop the grand watchtower. For a moment, she let her eyes wander across the landscape below. Her eyes scanned the horizon for any sort of danger. A trick of the moonlight made her eyes glow and look almost carnivorous in the dark hours of the night. A strong gust of wind lifted her hair and sent a slight tingle down her spine at the chilly sensation. She pulled her arms close to her chest and stepped back from the watchtowers edge to continue her search for the missing ranger.

She had taken no more than two steps before she fell to her knees, as a familiar cry rang through her ears. Without hesitation or control, she returned the call, her own personal scream echoing throughout the night. The entire ordeal lasted no more than ten seconds and left Drifter on her hands and knees, panting. She clutched her head in agony, gripping the wall of the collapsing watchtower. The screams were still fading from her senses before she took up the gamble to try and move again. While she could not see it, her eyes once again began to turn black. Throughout the mental chaos, she was wondering just what was happening to her.

With great effort, Drifter managed to get back on her feet and steady herself. She had to remain still for a moment in order to keep her vision from spinning. While ignoring the new mind cracking migraine she felt, she wondered just what the foolish half-lings had done to give away their position to the Black Riders. She hadn't even been gone for ten minutes for pities sake! But she new she would have time to scold them later; now she just had to make sure they didn't get killed. Drifter then took another two steps as her mind began to clear. But this moment of relief was short lived, for something crashed into her legs and she was once again knocked off her feet.

After managing to save herself from a potential bone cracking fall back down the stairs, Drifter somewhat gracefully tumbled onto the stone floor. For a short moment, she stayed put in attempts to collect herself. As she sat up, a new wave of pounding shot through her skull. But this time it was followed by a euphoric high like the one she had felt not a few weeks before at the Inn. In turn, she crumpled to the ground motionless, as all sense of sound and mobility were drained from her body.

While she lay there stock-still, the pulsation in her skull seemed to grow even louder. Muffled sounds began to return to her ears as she willed her blackening eyes to open.

Within that second she watched with crackling black eyes, as a Morgul blade was run through Frodo's shoulder, earning an anguished cry from the stunned half-ling. Strangely, it was the only thing she could hear. Within seconds, the half-ling pulled the Ring from his finger, and all sense of ecstasy had vanished as well. She watched, still frozen as Frodo's face contorted in pain before he fell to the ground and her eyes melted further towards blackness.

Another five seconds had passed and she had yet to move. Drifter could only watch the scene play out, now noticing Strider had somehow entered the fight. The mortal managed to send one of the Riders off the watchtower as he smashed a blazing torch against its hooded face. The Rider cried out as it fell from the vast height. Still, she had remained limp. Her skull was now throbbing painfully as daggers and swords continued to clash around her. Her body would not respond to her thoughts. All she wanted the Riders to do was leave; to disappear so her companions would be safe.

And then, for whatever reason, whether it was from watching the fall of one of their own, or some other unseen force that compelled them, the Riders fled. Drifter blinked, once then twice before letting her atypically heavy eyelids drift close as the long forgotten sensation of unconsciousness swept through her mind. And just as her eyes return to normal, did her usually bright world fall into darkness.

"What's happened to her?" Her ears were suddenly bombarded with noise. People gasping, running and yelling. The same panicked voice spoke out again, this time much closer. "What's happened to Drifter?" She concluded that it was either Pippin or Merry who had spoken, but that was all she could gather. All of her senses were being flooded in the same instant, sending her head into a momentary whirl.

"Mister Frodo had run into her when we first climbed the stairs." That was Sam. She was sure of it. His voice cracked with almost every word. "None of us had seen her it was so dark."

"Get her up," that was Strider. His tone was assertive, demanding, "We cannot linger here for long." Almost all of the voices around her seemed to have vanished before a small set of hands came and grabbed her by the shoulders. She felt herself being moved about until her head came to rest on a small lap.

Pippin's raspy voice broke out among the small group as he approached while the others faded away. "You've got to get up now Drifter." Did he sniffle? Or was that merely her imagination? One of his soft hands then came to move the hair out of the way of her lidded eyes. "We've got to be going now." It was after this statement that something wet landed on her cheek.

In that moment, Drifter groggily willed her eyes to open. She looked up into a set of soft brown eyes welled up with tears. Her eyes quickly flickered from dazed to confusion. Why was he crying? It couldn't possibly been over her…could it? She watched as another tear slipped down his check, his eyes already screwed shut from trying to keep them at bay.

She blinked, beginning to bring her hand up to his face. Any pain in her skull had since faded and her senses had returned to normal. In the back of her mind she wondered about the sudden withdrawal of her momentarily inflicted handicaps. However, these thoughts were shoved to the far recesses of her thoughts as she watched another tear slip down his cheek.

Without so much as a second thought, she gently began to wipe the tears away. Pippin jumped ever so slightly at the sudden action, but upon opening his eyes he relaxed. For that half second, he merely stared down at her as she finished riding his face of tears. She returned her hand to the ground and stared up at him as he stared down at her. Her face looked puzzled, while he just smiled. But it wasn't the customary joking or innocently humorous smile that normally graced this little half-ling's face. It was one of relief.

But before she could attempt to further depict his expressions, the voice of Strider broke out. "Is she awake?" Pippin turned his head to see the ranger approaching with a quivering Frodo in his arms. The two remaining half-lings were right at his heels, looking horrorstruck. Pippin could only manage a nod. "Get her up. We must leave immediately."

As if some magic had mysteriously broken the bindings upon her immobility, Drifter sat up, quickly coming to a stand in front of them. Without missing a beat, she held her hands out to Pippin, who just as readily took them as she helped him up. No sooner had she pulled him up did Strider speak, "Let's go. We have no time to waste." He then strode back down the crumbling staircase while the rest of the group followed behind him. None of them had bothered to question what had just occurred, for at the moment it was the last of their worries.

* * *

They had been running as if the very demons of hell were upon them. They bolted through the nightscape in hopes of saving the Ring Barer. None of them new how much time had passed, or how little for that matter. At one point they came to stop in a dark forest, shadows eating their way around them. Strider gently set Frodo down onto the ground, his normally glittering blue eyes replaced with a misted fog.

Sam glanced over at his wounded friend, placing a hand on his sweaty brow. He drew back with worry, "He's going cold." At the mention of this, their hearts continued to sink.

Pippin looked to Strider, voicing his own question. "Is he going to die?" His expression begged the ranger to deny his horrid suggestion.

Unfortunately, his reply wasn't much more reassuring. "He is passing into the shadow world. He will soon become a Wraith like them." A scream of the Wraiths was then heard echoing in the distance, and Frodo let out his own small cry of his own, as if attempting to answer them.

No one noticed Drifter as she began to slink further into the shadows. As she heard the Wraiths scream out in calling, she had felt another wave of dizziness fall upon her. She made a grab for the nearest tree to steady herself and she was already laced deep within the trees shadow. Without anyone hearing, she let slip a tiny screech of her own as she remained hidden in the darkness. Her head was once again in a jumbled mess and she took a few moments alone to calm herself before she opened her eyes again. The pounding insisted for a while, but faded to something more bearable and she finally opened her eyes. What confused her was the sight of a woman standing over the wounded Frodo.

Whoever she was, she was beautiful to say the least. The other half-lings seemed just as awestruck as she was, for they all gaped at her. As the mysterious woman kneeled over Frodo to assess his wounds, her dark brown hair fell down to the middle of her back. She was tall, at least much more so than Drifter. She was lean with soft pale skin that seemed to glow softly against the night's darkness, which unconsciously caused Drifter to drop even further into the surrounding shadows. With calculating eyes, Drifter noted the set of pointed ears the woman had.

So she was an Elf. That would explain a few things. While this information didn't make her feel any better about the situation, it did make Drifter feel less confused as to what was happening. Elves were known for their extensive skill in the arts of magic and healing, so perhaps she would be able to help Frodo.

Soon, Strider and the She-Elf were arguing. Although, after a moment, Drifter could plainly tell it was far from any true argument. She caught small tidbits of the conversation, which was taking place in Elvish. After a moment, they all watched the She-Elf mounted her white horse with Frodo before she galloped off into the night.

Sam suddenly bellowed out at the ranger, "What are you doing? Those Wraiths are still out there!" His only answer was silence as the man continued to stare off in the direction in which the white horse had fled.

After a few seconds, he turned back towards what was left of the group. "All we can do is have faith in them." Without so much as another word, Strider began sprinting off through the forest following the path the She-Elf had taken. Sam groaned aloud and started to chase after the ranger, everyone else following once again behind him.

* * *

By now, the night had gone and daylight had begun to eat its way across the land as the group continued to sprint through the countryside. Nearly all of them were extremely tired, but none of them were willing to be the hindrance in making the group stop completely. Strider was in the lead, Merry and Pippin behind him, leaving Sam and Drifter to bring up the rear.

The stout one was having the most trouble keeping up. His forehead was drenched in sweat and his face exceptionally flush. He stumbled over a tree root, almost letting gravity pull him to the ground just to have a moments rest. But he caught himself in time, kept his footing and continued in his run. Drifter stuck close behind him and always kept Strider within shouting distance. They pushed along, the sun becoming slightly shrouded by thin grey clouds.

Without warning, an excruciating pain ripped through her skull and her vision instantly blurred. This caused the cloaked female to come to a dead stop as she tried to catch herself from falling. However, there was nothing close enough to grab onto and she tumbled to the ground leaving a dusty trail in her wake.

Sam had heard her fall and stopped. He turned back to see yet another one of his companions motionless on the ground. His heart involuntarily skipped a beat. Without a second thought, he rushed back to her, quickly pulling her over onto her back so her face wasn't plowed any further into the dirt than it already was.

Her eyes were tightly closed and she seemed to twitch every few seconds or so. His eyes darted around frantically, not knowing how to help her. Sam turned around, yelling out, "STRIDER!" From far ahead, the ranger stopped, listening to the call. "STRIDER, HELP!" Sam shook Drifter by the shoulder. When he was given no response, he fell into a slight panic.

"What's happened?" The voice of Strider came out as he ran up behind them. Merry and Pippin were right on his heals, both panting heavily.

Sam turned back to him, his tone seemingly hopeless. "I don't know. She'd been behind me, and then I'd heard her fall, and now she won't wake up. It's as if she just fainted." Sam moved aside as the ranger kneeled down beside the stagnant female. They all watched as her face twisted and contorted in some unseen pain, random limbs twitching and shaking as if brushed with some unseen chill. Strider made a move to put a hand towards her brow, but halted as soon as he saw her eyes bolt open.

Without warning, Drifter sat up, covered in dust and dirt with a cut on her forehead that was healing at a rapid pace. The others jumped back, surprised at her sudden movement. Looks of relief began to break out across the faces of the half-lings, but their smiles quickly faltered.

Drifter's expression was laced with horror, and her eyes were as black as the richest tar. She said nothing and sat in silence her eyes lost to some world that only she could see. Her lips were drawn in a fine line, and her eyes were wide. "No," She whispered, her tone cracking. The others glanced at one another, obviously confused.

"Drifter?" Pippin asked quietly. But she did not reply. She only muttered the same word again, and just as painfully as before. The group watched in astonished silence as endless streams of anguished tears began to fall from her blackened eyes. Her hands came up to cover her face as she sobbed, words somehow managing to leak from her lips into tangible words.

"No, my brothers, my brothers, they have fallen!" Her tears trickled in between her fingers, landing on the powdered earth in front of her. "They have all been washed away!" She only paused to let out an enraged scream. "THAT ACURSED WITCH!" They all leapt back at her outburst, "I'll have her head, and the head of her children for this!"

She made a move to stand and almost began to sprint off. However, a firm hand caught her by the wrist, causing a delay in her departure. It was Strider, who then spoke as he held her firmly by the wrist, "Now hold on—"

"DO NOT TOUCH ME!" She screamed out at him, her eyes seeming to glow in fury. Within seconds, a faint crackling black aura surrounded her and Strider released her from his grasp. He slowly began to step away from her, his palms held out towards her.

"I mean you no harm Drifter." He said cautiously, all while watching the half-lings who stared on in evident perplexity and dread. He took another step back. His hand was aching where he grabbed her. This flesh was singed somehow and was now a sickly grey color as if burned by some unseen flame. Despite this, he held his ground, still carefully retreating.

She watched him with a piercing stare, eyeing him as he continued to fall back with the half-lings following suit behind him. Once she deemed them an adequate distance away, she turned around and bolted across the landscape towards her intended victim, leaving the rest of the group in a fine, and very startled stupor.

* * *

'_Find that witch. Find her. Kill her! She harmed your brothers. She must pay…'_

The crackling voice in her head seemed to drive her on ever more vigorously, and Drifter soon became nothing more than a shifting blur passing from one shadow to the next. The sky was now overcast and Drifter pulled out of a small grove of pines and out onto open planes, her figure like a trail of moving black fog across the flattened land. After she passed through another cluster of pines, she came to the bank of a river, the voice practically screaming out throughout her mind.

'_Find that witch! Find her. FIND HER NOW! Avenge your brothers for the crime she committed against them. She brought them harm, now you will bring the same to her!'_

Brothers… that word echoed the loudest as it passed through her subconscious. She swiftly made her way to the riverbank and stood along its shore, watching the cool liquid pass by. Gurgles erupted from all around her as the water moved along its path.

'_Your brothers have fallen because of that witch…'_

Anything else after that became a muffle. Her brothers… the image of two men passed through her mind for a brief second. One of them had dirty blond hair while the other was slightly younger with brown hair, which was growing in a similar wavy fashion as the others. Both of them were strongly built, and both of their expressions were warm and familiar.

That was all it took to bring some senses back to her. Drifter stood motionless along the side of the river, her hair wiping out around her as a gust of wind blew past.

'_AVENGE YOUR BROTHERS! YOU CANNOT LET THIS CRIME GO UNPUNISHED!'_

The voice was screaming again. Yet, she did not move. Her stare was contemplative, looking blankly out across the river. Drifter brought her hands up to her skull, falling to her knees as she fought the continual mental onslaught. Her eyes started to flicker from black to white, sweat once again beginning to appear on her brow.

"They are not my family…" The voice battled with her, trying to convince her otherwise. "No, no, you are wrong. They are not." Her hands gripped her hair feverishly; her eyes continually flickered as if trying to convey the battle that was taking place within her mind. When finally, she let out a belting scream that rang loudly across the water. "THEY ARE NOT MY BROTHERS!"

And as suddenly as the voice was there, it was gone, leaving her mind an eerily quite place now that it had departed. As her eyes hung open warily for an instant, the world around her seemed explicably bright. However, her eyelids fell shut and her previously tainted orbs began to revert back to a snowy white backdrop. She then toppled forward and her world was encased in a black fog as she surrendered her mind to unconsciousness.

* * *

"Will she wake up soon?" A soft voice was heard very close to her ear. Drifter's eyes were still closed, her mind finally bringing itself out of unconsciousness.

"In good time." There was a new voice speaking now. It was defiantly a male voice, strong, but somehow soft. A soft breath rushed against her ear. It was a quiet, and very warm sigh. She felt the bed around her sink in slightly as someone came to rest upon it. Her thoughts were still slightly jumbled.

The little voice spoke again, almost speaking directly into her ear. "I hope that happens sooner rather than later." There was a slight pause, the sheets around her shifted. "Do you suppose she could attend the counsel meeting my Lord?"

"Perhaps, Frodo." Came after a moment's silence. The voice continued, seeming to have moved locations, "There are a number of counsel members that have yet to arrive before we can proceed, so if she wakes by then, then perhaps."

Frodo sighed again, "I just have so many things I want to ask her." His voice was very close to her ear again.

She turned her head towards the little voice ever so slightly and forced her heavy eyelids to open. "Ask away," Despite how horribly dry and cracked her voice sounded, her words were humorous. She watched Frodo's eyes widen in joyous surprise at her words. He was sitting in a little chair wearing a set of fresh clothes, half leaning against the soft mattress.

"Drifter!" Without a moment's hesitation, Frodo threw himself at her, somehow managing to give her a hug while she was wrapped up in countless layers of blankets.

At first she was surprised by his actions, but after a moment she smiled and carefully returned the gesture as she moved to sit up. "It's good to see you too Frodo," she said with a small laugh.

He beamed up at her, his eyes blazing with excitement. "You'd been asleep for so we were all beginning to worry," He claimed while sitting beside her. His face lit up ever further. "I'll go fetch the others." Within seconds, he was halfway across the room, "They'll be so happy to hear that you've woken up!" By the time he'd finished speaking, he was already rushing through the doorway and out into the hall. She couldn't help but let out a small laugh at his antics, her expression soft.

After a moment, she let her eyes trail around the room, taking in the lavish furnishings, colossal stonewalls, elegant archways, and grand windows. She was in a very plush bed covered in soft white sheets and blankets with a mountain of pillows behind her. There was a small wooden bureau against the opposite wall with a few random trinkets sitting on top of it. Her cloak was resting on the armchair to the right of the bureau, along with her boots to the side of the chair. A quaint vanity and mirror was set up beside the luxurious bed and other small pieces of décor accented the room.

What caught her eye in particular was the figure standing just outside the balcony off to her left. From where she was sitting, she could tell that the person was male due to his stature. He was tall and also rather fair completed. And seeing as how he was wearing such elegant clothing, she knew he was some form of royalty. His dark brown hair fell far down his back and partially pulled back, letting her catch a glimpse of his pointed ears.

So he was also an Elf, which meant she was in Rivendell. Judging by the grandeur of the place and the vibe she was getting, she would've bet her life on that assumption. While this was already a problem in itself, the even more horrifying part of it was that she _knew_ this elf. Upon making these countless realizations, her already cold blood turned to ice. Quietly, she got out of the bed and went to the bureau, trying to gather her things as silently as possible. While she could boast about her good hearing, the Elves were on the same playing field as she was when it came to having enhanced senses. Just as she was about to slither out of the room, a voice spoke.

"Don't think you'll be slipping away so effortlessly, my Lady."

She couldn't help but turn somewhat stiff under his stare, which she could easily sense as he stared at her from the balcony. His stare was one of the hardest to ignore. "Lord Elrond," Drifter said firmly, but with much apprehension in her voice. She dared not turn around, but she couldn't help but break into a quiet sweat when she heard him pad his was across the room towards her.

"Sit down," It was a veiled command, and she did as she was told. Drifter returned to the bed, sitting down on the plush mattress. An impenetrable net had captured the raven and it was now victim to its new master. Her eyes never left the floor and the first real sight of his approach she saw was his shoes.

She heard his voice before she dared look up. "I do not know how you managed to become a companion to the half-lings, let alone the ranger, but under their orders I am sworn not to harm you. But if you bring it upon yourself my lady, have no doubt that I will do everything in my power to see that you are exterminated from this earth in mind, body, and soul."

Within that statement, the tension lifted, and then fell like lead back into the room. Drifter remained silent, her eyes solely locked on his shoes. "Now, raise your head, and look at me."

As if like a wild mustang, so suddenly broken and whipped, she lifted her head. Yet her eyes were closed in mute terror. He waited soundlessly for her to lift her eyelids and meet his stare. And she did.

In that instant, it was as if two repelling forces met and were being required to collide. In half the time it took to blink, Drifter flung herself across the room, and Elrond staggered back, but was much more composed in his actions. Drifter was on the ground against the wall, panting and shaking like a wounded animal while her eyes flickered to a more shadowy hue. Elrond remained on his feet, but stood quivering ever so slightly. Both of them said nothing while the air in the room continued to crackle around them with their opposing energies, too startled to do or say anything.

Then, unexpectedly, Drifter stood and bolted from the room. This left the Elf Lord in utter shock and slight horror. By the time the last of her nightgown had disappeared out the door, the Lord had already begun to chase after her, calling for help as he ran.

She ran blindly through the halls, following her instinct as to just how she was going to get out of this angelic hellhole. She didn't know why, but whenever she came close to Lord Elrond, (or any other tremendously powerful Elf) she had the upmost urge to get as far away from them as physically possible. She never understood this oddity, but she wasn't going to go against now, especially after what had just happened.

When she met his stare, it felt as if the barriers between Ying and Yan had momentarily cracked and the two opposing forces dared to collide. Had they continued, the only result would have been complete and utter chaos.

At that particular moment, her mind was also in complete chaos as she turned a sharp right down an open corridor. At a glance, she could see the edge of the city, but she could hear numerous voices trailing behind her, her steps constricted by her trailing nightgown. Then without warning, she was tackled. Not grabbed, stunned or momentarily petrified, but tackled mercilessly to the ground.

Her cheek met the solid granite floor, sending a long forgotten feeling of pain to pulse throughout her face. She let out a cry of momentary anguish as she thrashed against the four elves that tried to restrain her. Adrenaline was pumping vigorously through her veins, and she wasn't about ready to give up now. Drifter continued to struggle valiantly against them.

Then, by some trick of magic, luck, skill, or out right carelessness of her attempted retainers, Drifter slipped away from the many hands that were trying to hold her and she ran back down the path towards the cities entrance.

Her feet were fast beneath her, and she barely felt the ground beneath her as she ran. She could still hear the voices behind her, but her mind was lost in silent flurry, and she could only hear her muted footsteps.

She could tell that she only needed to make a few more turns before she was out of the city. Just a little ways farther and she would be free. But her hopes came to a dead stop just as she did when another body once again jumped from behind and managed to bring her to the ground. Powerful arms circled around her in an embrace as strong as love, but in fact, it was quite the opposite. Her retainer's grip was tight and constricting, but she didn't even attempt to struggle.

This time, she stayed down, like prey that knew there was no hope for escape. The last remaining stores of her excessive energy had drained away and she felt as if whomever was detaining her was sapping whatever energy had left right out of her.

As Drifter laid motionless in a near death grip, she allowed a few silent tears stream down her face. She was disgustingly hopeless. She couldn't even fight back against one stupid Elf. Lord Elrond would have her killed within the hour and her father and brothers would've been ashamed of her for getting herself into such a predicament. But upon realizing her impending death, she knew that she would never get to see the warm faces of her family again. It was that thought that scared her, quite literally in this instance, to tears.

For a few seconds, all sound was muffled and she was lost to her thoughts. But strangely enough, the brutal arms released her and she was passed to another and much gentler set of hands. These lifted her from the dirty ground and pulled her into a strong, but exceedingly tender embrace. For a moment she was too stunned to do anything but let this person effortlessly handle her in her unresponsive state.

Yet, for some odd reason, she found his touch to be familiar. As he pulled her up against his chest, an intense wave of sandstone hit her nose followed by an ever-lingering hint of fresh rain. She opened her tear stained eyes to see a shoulder draped in chainmail. One hand was wrapped securely around her waist and the other, on her back, pulling her close as if to shield her from the cruel world.

He was just as she remembered. His gentle touch, protective embrace, all of it was the same. She took in his soothing aroma like a withered flower and readily clung to with shaking hands. After a moment, she melted against him with new tears of relief flowing from her eyes. As a small crowd formed around them, she let one soft word trickle between her pale lips.

"Brother."

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own InuYasha or Lord of the Rings.

* * *

_Had they continued, the only result would have been complete and utter chaos._

_%&*_

I told you I'd update before the day was out. And it's even posted before ten; take that! But talk about a cliffhanger. I am so horrible. But I hoped you enjoyed this update. I most certainly did. But I swear, the next chapter will be the start of many explanations. I just wanted a little more drama before I got to that point. And as always, reviews are most appreciated.

Until later


	6. Looking for Stars

**Chapter Six**

_Looking for Stars_

"It'll be alright. I am here…I'm here." Blazing eyes glared daggers up at the crowd forming around them. The group closed in around them and the man reflexively pulled Drifter closer. "I'll protect you. I won't let them near you, I promise." He murmured these soft words into Drifter's ear, somehow managing to calm her from her high level of hysterics. Her sobs had ceased after a few seconds, but crystalline tears continued to stream from her eyes. Her chest lurched like newborn that was trying to learn how to breathe without gasping. Her arms were wrapped safely around his neck in a death lock, and as he held her he could feel her entire body quiver against him.

By now, a decent sized crowd had gathered around them, mostly consisting of the Elves that had been chasing poor Drifter, while there were others who were simply curious. A group of dwarves trailed along as well, wondering what all of the ruckus was about. Lord Elrond then stepped forward upon arrival, looking down at the curious duo. "Boromir?" He seemed genuinely confused, as did most others who were observing the spectacle. Elrond paused, noticing the man's clenched jaw and furious stare. "What is the meaning of this?" He gestured to the duo, still rather befuddled.

The man spoke, his words sharp, "I could ask you the same." There was a split second pause. "I was told that I would receive sincere hospitality upon my arrival, but after seeing what you've done to my little sister makes me doubt that invitation."

Numerous eyes widened, including those of Lord Elrond. "Your _sister_?" The Elf Lord took a long glance at Drifter, his eyes searching the petrified female as if an answer was to come from her quivering figure. He was rewarded with nothing. "But you are a human and she is—"

Boromir was swift to cut him off, "Family is not determined by the relation of blood, but by the closeness of heart." Silence rang between them while a prominent stirring of whispers danced throughout the crowd at the man's words. For a moment all was hushed until another round of footsteps could be heard rapidly approaching. Four small figures then managed to push their way towards the center of the crowd. Behind them came a tall man, cloaked entirely in grey with a beard to match. The eyes of the hobbits' widened in shock, as did those of the wizard's, but for entirely different reasons.

All four hobbits made haste in closing the distance between themselves and their only female companion. Boromir seemed somewhat startled at this, but said nothing while the little ones began sputtering questions.

Merry's question was the most taxing. "What's happened?" He asked, looking worriedly towards Drifter. She had yet to look anywhere but her brother, and tears were still leaking from her eyes. The half-ling certainly did not like to see his friend in such a state.

"Ask Lord Elrond." Came Boromir's blunt reply, gently tightening his hold on his voiceless sister. Five sets of eyes turned towards the elf in question, each with stares that were marred with anger and confusion.

Pippin whipped around towards Elrond, his eyes blazing and glossy with concerned but livid tears. "What did you do to her?" His voice was just below a holler, which surprised many of the onlookers.

"I did not lay a hand on her little one. But you must take into consideration that there is information regarding your companion's situation that you are unaware of; she is a threat, and I will not have her escape." Elrond replied honestly, his gaze turning hard.

"Perhaps she wouldn't have tired to escape if you hadn't frightened her!" Pippin proclaimed, now standing. The other hobbits exchanged glances as they watched their friend advance towards the Elf Lord.

However, a new voice boomed from the edge of the crowd, causing Pippin to stop while everyone else turned. It was a familiar grey-bearded wizard. "And to try label her as a threat while she is in a such a panicked state would be nothing short of cruel."

A voice nearby retorted. It was a blonde elf whose eyes held firm as he spoke, "But if you let the beast escape its tethers, it will soon be back on the prowl." There were a few nods of compliance with the occasional whisper of opinion.

"With all do respect my Prince, I too would have run from you had I been in her place. In fact, anyone would have." Gandalf looked strangely at ease when he spoke. "It was merely her body's natural reaction to flee from that in which would harm her."

"But Lord Elrond promised no harm would come to her!" Sam bellowed, taking a stand beside Pippin. The crowd began to murmur. They dared to speak so boldly against Lord Elrond? Surely, no good would come of this.

Gandalf once again spoke to calm the stirred crowd. "She has not been harmed Sam. Master Elrond merely frightened her to where she feared for her safety."

The voice of Merry was then heard. "What do you mean by that?" The half-ling made his way to stand beside his friends, continuing to form a small wall of hobbits between the Elf Lord and their petrified companion and her silent, but attentive brother.

The wizard replied, "As I'm sure most of you are aware, there are dark forces that reside within Drifter." Nods of agreement came from all around. "As Master Elrond discovered, it is these forces that protect her. However, when this dark shield is brought down, Drifter is left extremely vulnerable and quite simply, powerless."

"But what made her defenses fall?" Pippen asked, his expression more confused than angered.

"That would be due to the oppressive amount of light magic within this city." Gandalf supplied, "It is a simple matter of the balance of opposites; Drifter is compiled of dark magic, and the elves, of light magic. The two opposing forces are constantly trying to overpower each other, and in this case, the light magic is blatantly overpowering the dark magic. Yet it would seem that Drifter's instinct automatically suppresses the dark magic rather than try and fight the light magic."

"But why would it do that?" Inquired Sam. "I mean, if that magic is her body's instinctive means of self-defense, then why would it just shut down?" With the questions rolling on, tempers were beginning to cool, but the wall of half-lings held firm.

"Perhaps in hopes of skimming by unnoticed to its suppressive counterpart. It is said that there is more safety in stealth and going by unnoticed than there is in engaging in an already lost battle. In a sense, her body dropped into stealth mode for the time being." There were more curt nods of agreement and newfound understanding.

However, Elrond was proving to be stubborn, "If her magic was already so suppressed, then explain the burst of magic she displayed earlier. You above all else must have sensed it Gandalf."

"Indeed. But there is a simple explanation for that: fear." Some onlookers seemed confused. Gandalf continued in his explanation, "I would suggest that the surge of power was her last ditch effort of self-defense." There was another round of nods. "But it was also a simple reaction to the opposite breed of magic which you were obviously emanating my Lord."

Gandalf looked towards the Elf Lord, whose stare was becoming a bit more irate. "And you know as well as I, that as of this moment there is not a single trace of dark magic coming from her. And with the last of her reserves gone, it is safe to say that she can't be labeled as any sort of threat, if even a trouble." Gandalf finished.

Elrond immediately interjected, "Be that as it may, after all she has done I simply cannot let her escape."

"If you won't allow her to leave, then I'll simply take her with me." The once silent Boromir stood up with Drifter still safe in his arms. "She is more my sister than she is your enemy, and if you will not have her, then you most certainly will not have me." Without a moment's hesitation, Boromir turned his back on the Elf Lord and took a step towards the edge of the crowd, set on leaving.

However, a voice erupted from across the crowd before he had even taken two steps, causing Boromir to halt in his tracks. "All corners of Middle Earth must be represented at the council Boromir, and you are the only one who can represent your father." The man looked back to see Elrond standing exactly as he had. Only now the smallest smug smile playing at his lips. The Elf Lord took a few steps towards him, quietly pleased with himself. "And I believe you would have a difficult time explaining to Denethor as to why Gondor would be left to flounder alone during this impending war."

Boromir stood for a moment, weighing his options, which were already greatly limited. After a moment, the man turned back towards the Elf. His mind was set. "I will stay, but my sister is not to leave my sight." He strode before the Elf Lord and his words dangerously clear, "That includes during the council meeting." There was an immediate stream of chatter running through the crowd while a great number of eyes widened. Surely this was madness!

Elrond made a motion to speak, but his words were left unheard as another spoke before him. "I think that's a marvelous idea, don't you Master Elrond?" Gandalf boomed in, as to prevent any further arguments. His eyes danced with a slight uneasiness as he chose his words carefully. "With Boromir watching over Drifter, you can be sure that she won't cause any trouble. Not to mention that having her older brother around would be a good ease on her fraying nerves."

By now, Gandalf sauntered beside Boromir, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. "I'll escort you to her room." The wizard chattered on and Boromir simply let himself be motioned along, hobbits close behind, all while none of them paid any mind to the dumfounded group of elves and dwarves they'd left behind.

* * *

After a few moments, the party arrived at the door to Drifter's room. Gandalf spoke to the half-lings as he made a reach for the doorknob, "You four will remain here. Keep watch, and let no one inside. I will be back shortly." He then motioned Boromir in the room, swiftly closing the door as soon as he was inside.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Boromir spoke, "Thank you for—"

"Do not thank me just yet." Gandalf had moved across the room closing all of the drapes, which left the room fairly dark. "While I may have deterred Elrond for the moment, his patience will not last. So, if you will let me, there is something I would like to try." The wizard's staff then began to glow, providing enough light for them to see. Shadows were cast all across the room, and the only real trickle of light came from the crack below the door, which was partially blocked the four pairs of feet on the other side.

"Have her sit on the bed. And I promise, for the peace of mind for these elves and her own safety, this will not harm her." Any doubt that Boromir had been harboring eased up somewhat, and he moved to set his sister down. However, her grip on him only tightened, causing the man to have to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Eina, let go. I'll be right here. I won't let him hurt you, I promise." Boromir's words were soft, and somehow got her to loosen her near death grip on him. While leaning against her sibling, Drifter eventually came to sit beside him. Her hands moved nervously in her lap and her eyes danced around skittishly, almost as if she were trying to hide beside her brother.

For a moment the wizard simply observed her from a comfortable distance, the only sound coming from the sheets as she moved around uneasily. After a moment a soft smile passed his lips. "You're right in feeling weary of me, my dear Wanderer. My magic is just as opposing to you as theirs', is it not?"

"Not as much, sir." Came her quiet response. A soft smile broke out across Boromir's face to hear his sister speak in a tone that wasn't purely drenched in panic.

Gandalf chuckled, calmly moving towards her. Her eyes shot to the floor as he stood in front of her. "My dear, look at me. Your reaction here will not be the same as it was with Elrond." The light from his staff suddenly lowered, and the visibility was reduced to just enough so they could scarcely see each other's faces. She tentatively raised her head to look him in the eye.

Their eyes met and Gandalf smiled through the dim light as her eyes widened in surprise. "You see, while I may have my magic, mine is my own, and is different from that of the elves." A look of relief washed over her face and she visibly relaxed. "Just as magic is also your own."

At his words, her eyes feel to the floor, looking ashamed. "Yet I have absolutely no control over it."

Gandalf's eyes sparked to life, "And that is where I come in." He took a gentle step towards her, causing her eyes to peek up at him. Much to the siblings' surprise, Gandalf released his staff and kneeled down in front of the hesitant Drifter. His staff magically remained standing, still emitting a soft glow that was cast faintly about the room. "There is something I would like to try to help you gain some control over these volatile powers of yours. And I promise, it will not harm you in any way."

Their eyes were locked for a moment as Drifter searched his stare for any sign of deception. After a moment she tentatively gulped but nodded, earning a small smile from the wizard at her acceptance.

It was then that Gandalf gingerly brought his hands up, with his thumbs resting just below her hairline with the rest of his fingers placed gently on the top of her head. Drifter instinctively tensed, moving towards Boromir.

The man spoke, worried for his sister, "And what exactly are you doing?" Both of the siblings were noticeably tense, but before he could get a response, the tips of Gandalf's fingers let out an incandescent light, causing both the wizard and man to squint.

In reaction to this, Drifter's eyes shot open, immediately beginning to bleed black from the inside out, her mouth open ever so slightly in shock. Long forgotten words of magic suddenly began to sprout from Gandalf's lips as the light around his fingertips intensified. As the light grew, the black in her eyes melted away to a white just as bright as the magic around them. A few anxious seconds passed before the light died away from both Drifter's eyes and Gandalf's hands, leaving the room dimly lit by the mere glow of the wizard's staff yet again.

As soon as the light diminished, Gandalf grabbed his staff and stood up, beginning to stride across the dark room in a swift fashion. "Now tell me my dear, how do you feel?" In a single motion he flung the drapes open, allowing waves of sunshine to pour into the room.

It was if a whole new world had been let in. Birds chirped, the wind danced, and the smell of fallen leaves lingered in the refreshed air. He turned back towards the siblings; one who was looking at him with squinted eyes while the other's back remained towards him in astonishment.

Drifter's eyes were wide, lips still parted. Soft blue-grey orbs were now in the place of the once blackened pits of her eyes. "I feel fantastic." She turned towards the wizard, whose figure was haloed by the afternoon sunshine tumbling in behind him. Drifter offered him a full-blown smile. "I can't even find the words to describe it. I just feel… _lighter_." She then let out a stifling yawn, her eyes squeezing shut at the same time.

Her brother was smiling besides her, and spoke towards the wizard, "And just what sorcery have you blessed her with?" Drifter leaned comfortably against Boromir, who looked to the wizard, patiently waiting.

A pleased smile had made its way across Gandalf's face as he plodded back towards them. "The kind that brought her levels of light and dark magic closer to equilibrium."

A new voice piped in, "It did what now?" The door was suddenly cracked open and four hobbit heads peering in towards them. One set rolled, another glared, and the third looked just as befuddle as the last. The door widened father, allowing four heads to be revealed. Pippin, who was laying flat against the floor, looked curiously up at the taller beings in waiting. "Well?"

Gandalf restrained a laugh, "Never have a met such a peculiar group of hobbits."

"We may be peculiar but at least we show interest, unlike most hobbit-folk." Merry defended. One of his hands was now pointing out in clarification, the other keeping him propped up above his friend.

Boromir laughed in good humor. "Interest, or perhaps a bit of overindulged curiosity."

"Overindulged indeed." Gandalf agreed, chuckling along with him. "But to answer your question, you first must understand the balance of opposites. For instance Yin and Yang; both are polar opposites, yet one cannot survive without the other. Such are the ways with magic." Gandalf looked towards Drifter who was now dozing on her brother's shoulder. He let out a soft laugh before continuing, "In Drifter's case, one magic was overpowering the other to a point where this balance was disturbed, leaving her with little control over her abilities."

"So you cast a spell that gave her that balance back?" Sam asked while leaning above Merry and Pippin. He held the doorframe to keep himself in place above his friends without falling on top of them.

"Not complete balance, but enough. She will have to discover true balance herself. Such equilibrium can't simply be magically repaired." There was a moment's pause, "But in a sense, yes, I restored _some_ of the balance within her."

"But how? Just what sort magic did you use?" Frodo asked from the top of the hobbit totem pole. His eyes were still ablaze with curiosity and nearly poured with unanswered questions. In between the reply, Pippin muttered something about having a shoe that was mercilessly crushing his tailbone. Merry shushed him as Gandalf made a move to speak.

To this, the wizard cracked a grin. "A magician never reveals his secrets."

Pippin let out an exasperated sigh, "Of course!" He made a quick motion to stand, obviously forgetting about those around him. In seconds, there was a pile of hobbits in the doorway, all haphazardly sprawled out on top of one another, groaning and laughing in between the occasional slew of profanity.

Gandalf laughed again, shaking his head while catching the swinging door before it hit the wall. "Now come along hobbits. While I won't tell you precisely what I did, I'll let you in on a little secret." All the hobbits immediately recoiled off the ground and stood around the wizard, unconsciously holding their breath in anticipation. "The spell makes the one who's been charmed exceptionally tired, so I believe it would be best if we left Drifter to sleep."

The hobbits all let out an exasperated sigh as the wizard began to usher them out of the room. Frodo looked back to see Boromir pulling the covers up over his sister. She lay still, obviously already lost to sleep while her brother closed the drapes, still allowing some light to trickle into the room before he made his way back towards the door. Just as he strode out of the room and closing the door behind him, Pippin scoffed, "Well that's a grand secret, now isn't it?"

"Knowing the after effects of the spell and simply observing it being cast would be enough for a wise man." Gandalf chided humorously.

"I am not exceptionally wise, nor am I a man, neither in which I am ashamed of." Pippin said as-a-matter-of-factly. He nodded once in confidence before beginning to stride down the corridor. The others laughed a bit at his comical behavior, hearing him talk over his shoulder. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starving. All of this running around and talk of magic's made me hungry."

Sam snorted, rolling his eyes at his dear friend as the three remaining hobbits began to trail after him. "Is there ever a moment when you aren't driven by the pull of hunger?"

"Yes, but unfortunately it never lasts very long." The hobbits then continued to chatter away as they moseyed along. Frodo stalled, noticing the man and wizard had fallen behind. He looked at them curiously, but Gandalf motioned him on. Frodo's brow furrowed in confusion and wonder, but nonetheless, he obeyed and continued after his friends. As they watched the group of half-lings disappear around a corner, the two turned towards another, still hovering outside the room.

Boromir was the first to speak. His words were horribly blunt. "So what did you _really_ do, wizard? I have seen the extremities of her abilities, and I find it hard to believe that you could have so easily suppressed them."

Gandalf sighed, the carefree humor now gone and replaced by truth. "Everything I said was true."

"But it wasn't the _full_ truth." Boromir remained vigilant, his words stressed. "I feel as if you left out a few crucial details."

"I will admit, you've caught me red handed." The wizard put his free hand up in defense. "And as her brother, I will give you the truth. But that is also why I still swear to you that this will not harm her."

The pace of his words quickened, tone demanding. "Then what _will_ it do?"

Gandalf was silently astonished at the display of emotion Boromir was showing; he truly cared for this girl… perhaps even in a way that even she couldn't fully comprehend. The man's eyes sought nothing other than answers and from the look he was giving him, Boromir would be damned if he was given anything but the truth.

And so the truth Gandalf would give him. "While I have restored some balance within her, I only managed to cleanse a portion of the tainted magic." The wizard began to walk slowly down the corridor, Boromir striding along beside him.

"You speak as if it is poisoned." Boromir's voice was now much more controlled, as were his steps as the walked quietly along the expansive corridor.

"Because that's exactly what it is." Their eyes met. Boromir's gaze bemused, while Gandalf's harbored a quiet dread.

Yet the wizard pressed on. "I can tell you right now that the original state of magic within her was light. Possibly the purest I've ever seen. To discover that was surprising to say the least, but to imagine it has been so tainted—"

"Hold on, what do you mean by original state of magic?" Boromir suddenly questioned. "Are you saying that she did not always have such dark powers?"

The duo continued to stride along, not really taking note of the changing scenery around them. A brisk wind flew around them, tussling the leaves off the trees. "Yes. I believe that this black magic was given to her."

"But how, or more, _why_ would anyone curse another with such dark power?" The idea of someone cursing his younger sister _did not_ appeal to Boromir. His stomach churned at the mere idea.

Gandalf's voice was once again laced with muted trepidation. "How is simple; all you need is someone with the all right resources and all the wrong motives." His voice dropped to an even more dreaded tone. "But why; that is something even I do not wish to try to comprehend."

"So you truly think that she was cursed?"

Gandalf nodded solemnly, gazing absently out over the Elvin city. "In a sense, yes. But remember, '_was'_ is a form of past tense; you must keep in mind that she is still cursed Boromir. Do not forget that. It would take much more than a single spell to release her from the hold the black magic has on her."

"Then what good was the spell?" Boromir snapped quietly.

Gandalf sighed, knowing this was difficult for him to hear. Nonetheless, he continued. "The spell is crucial because it has muted the dark magic within her for a time. Elrond will notice, which will put him at ease, while also giving her time to gain control over the remaining magic naturally." He looked back towards Boromir, whose expression was bleak. "All we can do now is hope that she manages to find the natural balance within herself or..." The wizard bit his tongue, knowing he'd said one too many words.

"Or what?" The man asked, his voice sounding uncharacteristically feeble. A pained smile draped across his face as he gazed outward. His eyes were seeking answers to questions that, as of this moment, had no solution.

"Or she will eventually return to the volatile state that we all know and fear her for, only worse." Gandalf meandered along the edge of an overhanging balcony, Boromir trailing behind.

"If that was such a risk, then why bother with the spell in the first place?" Boromir's voice began to rise with each word.

Gandalf looked towards him, his gaze firm, but still withholding calmness. And strangely enough, a look of hope glimmered in his eyes. "Because I have faith in her." At these words, Boromir was taken aback, truly surprised. The wizard looked towards him. "And as her brother, you should as well."

Boromir could only manage a quiet, "Yes," as he mulled over all the wizard had told him. Both of them stood along the edge of a balcony over looking the Elvin haven, each lost to their own thoughts.

After a moment, a gentle smile ebbed its way across the wizard's face. He spoke gently, his words almost as soft as the breeze around them. "I couldn't help but notice that you called her Eina." Boromir blinked a few times, looking momentarily confused before nodding, having returned from his thoughts.

"Ah, yes." A peaceful smile of his own quickly broke out across Boromir's face. For the moment, all the worry for his sister had been pushed aside for a more endearing recollection.

"It is Elvish for '_happiness'_." Curiosity danced in the wizard's eyes, for now he looked to the younger man for answers.

Boromir's eyes shone brightly, his gaze lost to a beautiful memory only he could see. "Exactly." Boromir must have sensed the wizard's confusion and continued, a peaceful smile still gracing his face. "Before I saved her, my father, brother, and I were a rather pathetic excuse for a family, which was obviously due to my mother's passing. But then this girl came into our lives and somehow, against all odds, managed to mend the broken tethers of our family and bring us back together. In a sense, she restored us of our happiness." He let out a quiet laugh. "So needless to say, we found it to a befitting name for her."

Gandalf quietly observed the younger man, who was once again drifting back to old memories. Another gentle breeze floated along, and each man sighed as it passed. Gandalf once again turned, leaning against the balcony rail while falling into a passive stance. "It is indeed a befitting name. But do not be surprised when she remembers another name for you to call her by."

Boromir's brow furrowed, turning towards the wizard. "What do you mean?"

"Without the dark magic there to conceal them, her memories will begin to return." The wizard pushed off the rail, both of his hands placed on his staff. Somewhere off in the distance, a voice was singing. The melody was quiet, but light and full of mirth. "And with her memories, perhaps her true name as well." The wizard began to walk along once more, Boromir following in step beside him.

"How soon before she starts to remember?"

"Yet another question I cannot answer. It could a few hours, days, or perhaps even months. But when this happens is all up to her." The duo continued to meander through the city, "And once she does, I have a feeling that she will come to play a large part in this oncoming war."

There was a near instant reply from the Brother. "My sister will have nothing to do with this war."

"And what will you do, lock her away?" Gandalf peered towards Boromir with a look of knowing. "You cannot decide her fate for her, she must walk that path on her own. And whether or not you allow it, I feel as if she is not one to stand aside at let those she loves get in harms." He let out a quiet chuckle, "At least, not without her there to defend them."

Boromir sighed wearily, coming to stop while rubbing the back of his neck. The grown man suddenly looked like a child, helplessly confused about what to do with this situation he was given. Gandalf could only smile at Boromir's genuine concern for his sibling.

The wizard rested a hand on the man's shoulder. "Have faith in her. She's full of as much bark, as she is bite." Boromir managed a nod, letting the wizard pull him towards a particular path. "But now we must be off. Seeing as how you've arrived, we can proceed with the council meeting."

"Then I must wake Eina. I will not go back on my word." He began to turn, but Gandalf's grip remained firm on his shoulder.

"After the project of such a spell, she will need much rest. Leave her to sleep. She will be well soon."

Once again, Boromir let out a sigh, and allowed the wizard to pull him along. "I'm starting to think you planned it all to turn out this way." Boromir shook his head in a confused, but humored manner, "But why, I can't even begin to understand."

The wizard chuckled, "And you never will." With that, the two walked along, a casual silence drifting between as they headed off to the meeting.

* * *

All had been beautifully quiet. No sound was made, and she was strangely at peace. But then she heard it again, creeping back into her mind. First there was a loud pound throughout her subconscious, then traces of dark words. The blissful peace she had been joyously lost in had been disrupted as the gnarled voice returned.

_"Ash nazg durbatulûk"_

The words turned whole and they burned her ears to hear. The malicious murmur had slithered out of the darkness to torment her yet again. With each passing word a mantra began to parade across her mind.

"_Ash nazg gimbatul"_

The words grew steadily louder, pulling her from her peaceful sleep and into a disoriented mess. She thrashed at the sheets as she tried to escape the tangled encasement around her in attempts to subdue the voice.

"_Ash nazg thrakatulûk"_

She struggled against the sheets, still half-asleep as she tried to deny the black speech from wooing her subconscious into doing something dangerously unorthodox. Her skull began to pound. Her eyes flickered to a dark blue behind masked eyelids.

"_Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!"_

She let out an enraged yell,and just as soon as it was there it was gone. The voice had vanished away to silence once again, leaving Drifter in a cold sweat. She took a few deep breaths, still extremely groggy. She kicked the sheets back over her so they weren't nearly as strangling and plopped her head against one of the many pillows behind her. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she rolled over and quickly feel back into a deep sleep, unaware of the eyes watching over her as she slept.

* * *

"Will she wake up soon?" A soft voice spoke, some paces away.

Another replied from a bit farther off. "In good time." Beneath her eyelids, she blinked in confusion.

"I hope that happens sooner rather than later." A third voice finished, seeming to just enter the room. Well if that wasn't good dose of déjà vu for her, she didn't know what was. Perhaps everything that happened before had been a dream? Carefully, she opened her eyes, hoping for a different scenario than the first time she awoke.

Upon first glance, the scene sent a wave of relief through her. From her room's balcony, Drifter saw the same beautiful she-elf from the woods, looking just as serene standing under the glow of the morning sunlight as she did under the darkness of night. Gandalf was wandering aimlessly about the room with one arm swinging methodically at his side while the other grasped his staff. And as her eyes moved towards the door, she saw her brother enter the room, eyes slightly impatient, but as gentle as always.

She let a soft smile ebb its ways across her face; definitely a more preferred scenario. She let out a stifled yawn, earning looks from all of the other occupants of the room. Without hesitation, her brother was the first to her side.

"Little Eina." A hand gently brushed the side of her face, sitting on the bed beside her. "So you've finally awoken from your slumber."

"How long was I asleep for?" She inquired, her grey-blue eyes as a curious as always as the gaped up at her brother.

An aged voice spoke this time, "Four days." Drifter's eyes bugged out at this, but the wizard continued from his seat. "But don't be alarmed by it. Extended amounts of sleep is a common side effect of that spell. And to make sure you were alright while you slept, Lady Arwen volunteered to watch over you when your brother could not." Upon mentioning the lady, Gandalf gestured to the she-elf who was now standing beside him. She offered her a quiet smile and nod.

Drifter sat up a bit and returned the gesture, "Thank you for watching over me. But if you don't mind me asking, why are all of you here? I mean, I highly doubt it takes three people to watch over someone who's sleeping."

It was in innocent question, yet their reactions to her words came off as unexpected. Boromir clenched his jaw, Gandalf sighed, and Arwen's eyes fell to the floor.

The Lady was the first to speak as she strode back towards the balcony. "My father is proving to be stubborn in having you stay in the city."

"Your father?" Drifter inquired, now sitting up.

"Lord Elrond." Gandalf answered. Upon mentioning his name, Drifter's fingers instantly clenched the sheets in a slight death grip. A small 'oh' was all she could manage.

Gandalf nodded, "Oh, indeed." The wizard looked towards Drifter, "I have tried everything to sway his thoughts, but no matter what I suggest he aptly refuses." The wizard stood and then paced slowly about the room, coming to let out a sigh as he returned to his chair. "And I have run out of options." The room was silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the outside. Birds chirped their annual melodies and leaves danced quietly as they were brushed from their branches.

Gandalf suddenly looked up, his face enlightened. "I've just stumbled upon one last idea. Boromir, I will need your help in convincing Elrond." The man looked somewhat puzzled, but hopeful and got up from the bed. He smiled down to his sister before heading out the door with the wizard close behind him.

"I wonder what he's thought of." Drifter chimed quietly, leaning back against the pillows in wonder.

"Whatever it is, I hope my father agrees to it." Arwen said, now standing beside the bed. Drifter nodded in agreement. "He's been unreasonably hardhearted about this situation."

"He's just trying to do what he believes is best." Drifter added quietly. "I can't really blame him." She let out a quiet laugh. "I'm not exactly what you'd call the common houseguest."

"Be that as it may, his actions are still unacceptable. Just because he fears you does not excuse his behavior."

Drifter cast Arwen an incredulous glance, "I know he does not trust me or my magic to say the least, but I do not believe that is enough to have him fear me."

Arwen met the eyes of Drifter, her expression soft. "It is not a fear of your powers that frightens him so, it is the fact that you sought to kill his daughter."

A heavy silence lingered between them until Drifter regained her voice. "What do you mean? I have met you but once before in the woods. That is hardly any reason for me to want to..." Drifter shifted uneasily, suddenly bringing her hand to her head. An abrupt pound erupted within her skull and a slew of dark images were unveiled from the dark recesses of her memories.

Drifter drew a sharp breath, sinking further into the bed. Her hand dropped from her hair, and her grey-blue eyes opened with new insight. "I saw it all… _again_," she murmured, "that night, in the woods." There was a strained pause, Drifter's expression somewhat sour as she debated whether through to fight through her sudden bout of cottonmouth or just swallow it and remain silent.

She decided to speak. "And the morning when I chased after you." Drifter's expression melted into a look akin to the face a small child who had lost their way in the dark of the woods. She pulled her legs towards her chest, placing her head on the tops of her knees. A broken mumble came from the distressed female, "How can you even stand to be near me?" Words laced with self-loathing and disgust continued to fall from between her teeth. "I sought to _kill_ you, and yet here you stand before me. How can you do this?" She was appalled at her own words. "I am surely some sort of monster." Her pale hand gripped tightly around her legs, her posture closed and tense.

Arwen hovered at the bedside, sitting down after a moment. One of her hands lifted from her lap and hovered like a hesitant bird, unsure of its intended perch. Fingertips then carefully graced raven locks as Arwen let her hand fall on Drifter's shoulder. "Unlike my father, I do not believe that it was you that sought to kill me. I believe that whoever holds the key to unlocking your memories is the one who wanted to kill me. Why, I cannot rightly say, but whoever they are, they are no longer the one who commands you." By now her voice was exceptionally gentle as she tried to pull Drifter from her depressed state. "Be at ease, for now the black fog has been lifted from your mind and your memories will begin to return."

"But this is such a dark thing to remember. And what if there are more memories like them to come? I do not wish remember such dark things." Drifter sighed as her voice trailed off.

A quite, and almost immediate response came from the she-elf. Her words were soft, but clear, in both their sound and meaning. "Yet if you only see the night as darkness, you will forget to look up and admire the stars."

There a slight turn of her head. A sign of quiet recognition, partnered with a look of consideration. Drifter lifted her chin to her knees, eyes lost in a moment of remembrance. She sniffled once, and nodded, silently coming to agree with Arwen.

Arwen smiled gently, rising from the bed in a single fluid motion. She floated across the room, "Now, I believe you have spent quiet enough time in bed." She pulled open the wardrobe, rummaging through an assortment of gowns. Drifter relaxed from her constrained pose, resting back against the pillows as Arwen chattered on. "And hopefully my father will consider, if not accept Gandalf's new plan." The she-elf soon pulled out a soft blue dress, draping it over one of her arms before walking back towards the bed.

Drifter flung back the covers and swung her feet off the bed. "Do you have any idea what that plan is?"

"I honestly don't know, but we shall find out soon enough." Arwen gestured for her to stand. "Now, let's get you cleaned up and I'll escort you around the city. I'm sure there's a group of hobbits lingering about who'd love to see you now that you're awake."

At the mentioning of the hobbits, Drifter's face broke out into a beaming smile. She stood from the bed and trailed behind Arwen, silently grateful at the opportunity to freshen up. Her blue nightgown brushed softly against her ankles as the two she-beings walked the short distance from the bedchamber to the baths in a quiet but passive silence. Both of them were pleasantly content with the silence, as well with one another, finding no need to speak further as they walked through the sunlight halls.

* * *

Everything had been going rather smoothly since she had awoken. The bath was by far it's own good dose of medicine, and the meal she and Arwen had shared was full of friendly conversation and delicious food. The only slight downsides were the looks Drifter was receiving from nearly every other elf they encountered. However, Arwen told her to keep her head held high, and do her best to ignore them. Both of them knew that any response of hostility would instantly be reported back to Elrond, and the last thing Drifter needed was a reason for him to lock her up and throw away the key. So the two of them walked in stride with on another, now heading towards one of the city's many gardens.

"I wonder where those hobbits have run off too." Arwen laughed for a moment. "I'm surprised that Merry and Pippin haven't run into any new sort of mischief." Arwen led them under an intricate stone archway, taking them outside.

Drifter smiled beside her. "I'd have to agree. They're all rather curious, at least more so than most hobbits. Not to mention exceptionally good at popping out when you least expect them."

"You've got that right!" From both sides, Drifter was wrapped in hugs. She wobbled for a moment, startled by the sudden appearance of the jubilant Merry and Pippin. Arwen grabbed her arm to steady her, laughing at the crazed and exceptionally startled look on Drifter's face.

"We're so glad you've woken up!" Merry exclaimed, stepping back after a moment.

Pippin nodded in compliance, "Yes! We were starting to wonder if you'd been reduced to some sort of vegetable." His tone and expression were enough to send them all into a bought of uncontrollable laughter. He looked confused, "What? What's so funny?"

"Ahh Pip, you are always a hoot." Merry said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes.

"There is no other like him." Arwen said, regaining her poise, but still smiling brightly. "But now, do either of you know where Frodo and Sam are? I'm sure they'd like to know that Drifter is awake as well."

"We'd love to show you two lovely ladies where they are." Merry held his arm out to Arwen. She laughed, taking it before walking along with him down one of the gardens many stone paths.

Pippin mimicked his friend, only going one step further. "My dear lady, it would you allow me to be your escort on this lovely afternoon?" He bowed deeply before offering her his hand. His expression was suddenly suave, and accented with a charming smile.

Drifter laughed yet again. "I'd be honored good sir." And so she took his arm, still laughing quietly as his unusual, but humorous behavior. "Lead the way."

They meandered through what seemed like endless sea of late blooming flowers, all in which were exquisite and beautiful. Around them trees were morphing in color, but the grass beneath them remained predominately green. The air was dusted with the hint of autumn, but the air was still comfortably warm as the group wandered along. The stone path was clear-cut, made of flat white stone as it scoured a path through the beautiful garden.

Drifter was in awe the entire time, which Pippin seemed to notice. He was soon babbling about the flowers, the trees, and even the best places he'd found to take naps. Drifter laughed, still blown away at the serenity of the Elvin garden. Her gaze left a cluster of white flowers and looked ahead, seeing two familiar curly haired hobbits sitting under a large apple tree. Frodo seemed to be reading some sort of book as he rested against the base of the tree, and Sam was picking up the fallen apples, already having a large number of the vibrant red fruits in his arms.

From a distance Merry hollered, "Hey, fellas! Look at who's finally decided to rejoin us!" Frodo and Sam looked up from their separate tasks at the voice. Sam instantly dropped the dozen apples in his arms, and Frodo practically tossed the book to the ground as both of them sprinted towards the newcomers.

And as before, Drifter was enveloped in a surge of hugs and joyous cries of happiness. After a moment, everyone parted. "I'm so glad you're finally awake!" Frodo said, stepping back with a beaming smile that easily stretched from each cheek.

Sam nodded, looking momentarily worried. "I was starting to wonder if whatever voodoo Gandalf had cast had done more harm than good."

From behind them, an aged voice bellowed, "Voodoo, master Gamgee?" The group turned to see Gandalf walking towards them. "Perhaps I should use more of my _voodoo_," he spoke the word facetiously, "and change you into a toad." Sam visibly paled while the others just laughed.

"Oh come now Sam, you know he's only joking." Drifter said in between fading giggles as to leave her friend with some his dwindling pride.

"Indeed," Gandalf chimed in, "and while the look on Master Gamgee's face is quite amusing, there is something I must tell you." There was a pause until all remaining snickers had subsided and all eyes were on him. Once these requirements were met, the wizard spoke. "Master Elrond and I have finally come to an agreement regarding Drifter."

There were numerous exclamations of relief and happiness, but as it quieted, Gandalf further explained. His words sent looks of shock across everyone's faces. "Specifically, he has agreed to let her accompany the Fellowship on their journey."

"What?" Arwen sounded sincerely bewildered. "I know my father, and he would not so easily have allowed this." She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, wondering at just what magic the wizard had conjured up this time. "Just what did you bargain with my father to reach such an agreement?"

Curt words followed, "Our conversation started with me merely suggesting she join the Fellowship. I thought that since her brother would be there to watch over her along with everyone else that Master Elrond would agree. I even brought Boromir along to have him further help me with my argument." He paused, chuckling momentarily. "Although he wasn't too keen about it when I first told him."

"Why was he against the idea?" Sam asked. "I mean if it's the only option left, then you can't be too picky."

Gandalf nodded in agreement. "That's exactly what I told him. Granted, the idea of his dear sister being sent on a potentially life-threatening quest didn't appeal to him, he begrudgingly accepted once I told him this might be the only way. Luckily for us, Master Elrond agreed."

"So I'm to join the fellowship then?" Drifter added simply.

Gandalf sighed, his expression somewhat bothered, if not more irritated than anything. "Yes, but there is catch; before you are officially recognized as a member of the Fellowship, you must pass a set of trials." As if sensing the oncoming questions as to why, he continued. "Master Elrond requires this because," he paused, letting out a woeful laugh, "he wants to ensure that you are capable of being more than just a burden."

A boisterous eruption of voices suddenly broke out, each beginning to fume at the insulting suggestion. "Drifter can handle herself perfectly well! We've all seen it!" Pippin said, looking to his friends who were swift to agree.

"She's protected us countless times from the wraiths!" Sam began, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "That should be enough in itself!"

Merry interjected, "And she helped us out with the whole Strider situation." The others nodded once again.

"Yes, that too." Sam said.

Frodo continued, "But who is he to suggest such lowly things of her when he doesn't know anything about her to begin with?" Frodo spoke out, blue eyes blaring in quiet vehemence.

The wizard seemed just as flustered as the half-lings. "That's precisely why he wants to test her skills; he has not seen them himself, therefore he wants confirmation by seeing them first hand." His lips pursed together in recollection, "I tried to convince him that she was perfectly capable of doing all of what would be required of her. Boromir tried to sway his thoughts even more so than I, seeing as how this suggestion was also a blow to his teaching abilities. But Master Elrond simply would not have it." The wizard sighed. "And so she is to face these trials to appease him."

"But what will happen if she can't pass them? Not that I'm saying you won't Drifter, because I have complete faith in you." Sam quickly sputtered the last part out, earning a little giggle from Drifter at his verbal stumble. "But what then?" He asked again.

"We will cross that bridge when we get there." Gandalf responded firmly. "For now, we must have faith in our friend and give her our support." The others spoke out in agreement, with Pippin reaching out and giving Drifter a hug.

"Don't worry, we'll cheer you on from the sidelines." He looked up to her and smiled, and she beamed right back at him, returning the hug.

"I'll do my best, you can count on that." Drifter said, with eyes blaring. The rage she had felt moments ago had ebbed away to a look of determination that was just as fierce. "So when do the trials begin?" She asked, a smile beginning to creep up the corners of her mouth. She would enjoy making a fool out of the Elf Lord.

Gandalf looked at her, his ageing eyes easily catching the new fire her gaze was harboring and couldn't help but smile. Perhaps this would go well. And perhaps, she would be able to prove her worth, while maybe humbling the ignorant Elf Lord as well. Gandalf couldn't help but smile along with her.

"Tomorrow."

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I don't own InuYasha or Lord of the Rings.

* * *

_All you need is someone with all the right resources, and all the wrong motives._

%&*

A full blurb about my extended hiatus and this chapter will be on my profile for those who are curious. But _please_ review. It makes me more willing to update knowing that not only do people bother to read this story, but are willing to take the extra effort to write a legitimate review (those with constructive criticism are even more welcomed). Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.

Until later


	7. The Trials

Chapter Seven

_The Trials_

It was a beautiful autumn morning in Rivendell; the leaves were morphing into glorious shades of maroon and gold and the smell of this seasonal change hung about the air. The only odd thing was that nearly every set of eyes in the city were hovering around a single training ground, locked on the people that were standing at the edge of the grounds.

The wizard walked out into the arena a few paces and gazed up at the crowd looming above them; almost like vultures. A look of uneasiness passed over Gandalf's eyes, but he turned back to the other behind him. He his gaze immediately fell on Drifter, for he was set on giving her one last piece of advice before her trials began.

Gandalf's staff tapped against the dirt, sending up small puffs of dust as he walked. His eyes were already squinting under the morning sun. He let out a quick breath, "A test on swordsmanship is your first trial. To pass, you must force your opponent yield."

"Sounds simple enough." Drifter commented, taking a stride out towards the arena with her boots tapping along the ground as she walked. Along with the boots, she was now dressed in brown traveling pants and a forest green long-sleeved shirt. A protective layer of chainmail was draped over the shirt and clinked ever so slightly as she walked. A set of leather arm guards were also pressed against her forearms and a pair of fingerless leather gloves were strapped to her hands.

She pulled at the gloves and spoke, "Who's my opponent anyway?" She looked to Gandalf, whose mouth opened to answer, but another voice beat him to a response.

"That would be me, my Lady." Raven locks whipped around to see none other than her dear ranger friend walking towards her, his hand already resting on the hilt of his sword. He was adorned in simple traveling clothes much like she was, but this outfit wasn't as weathered as his last outfit. For the most part, his attire wasn't very different save for the addition of leather guards and chainmail. Even from the distance, she could see his white teeth smirking at her.

She dejectedly slumped her shoulders, bringing her palm to her forehead in exasperation. "Of course I'd be fighting you." She looked up, her eyes meeting his, "Why am I not surprised?" He only laughed, nodding her over towards the more open part of the training ground. She followed.

As they began to walk juxtapose, their boots left the soft grass in exchange for hard earth. The ranger spoke, "I'm glad to see you are well."

She laughed. "That's probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

The ranger rolled his eyes. "The little ones were getting antsy."

"Ah." She remarked, her eyes scanning their surroundings as they walked. As a whole, the space wasn't exceptionally large, but a still big enough to where a good number of people could train without getting in each other's way. There were also a large number of trees off to one side of the space, the size of them allowing an escape in the hot sun during warmer times of the year.

A shout suddenly called out to her from the audience. Her eyes filtered through the crowd until she saw a small hand waving down to her. She smiled to see Frodo waving excitedly down to her, Gandalf now having appeared behind them. Merry then leaned over the banister; cupping his hands over his mouth, "Don't be afraid to really give it to him!"

"Yeah, show him who's _really_ better with a sword!" Pippin added. From below, Drifter stifled a laugh, and Strider shook his head. The Hobbits were already receiving a good number of looks from those around them. Gandalf hastily pulled them down to shush them.

Sam suddenly interjected, watching his two friends get hauled off the rail. "You realize we've never actually seen her use her sword." His face was deadpan, one of his eyebrows quirked up at Merry and Pippin as he came to stand between them, resting his arms on the banister.

The duo blinked at him for a moment before turning back to the oncoming battle. Pippin jumped back up onto the marble rail, "Be that as it may, I'm sure she'll kick his rear into next week."

"I'm not one to choose between them, but I do hope she beats him." Frodo added, standing on Merry's left, carefully watching his two companions down in the ring.

Below, the two stopped, now in the dead center of the arena. They turned towards one another. Drifter took note of grip the ranger had on his sword. She let out a curt laugh, "Getting a bit antsy yourself over there?"

Once again, he rolled his eyes at her. "I have been waiting for this for a long time."

She was horribly blunt with her words, hands on hips. "For what, the chance to run me through with your sword?"

"No." She rose an eyebrow rose at him. "The chance for a real fight. A _fair_ fight." A gust of autumn wind blew between them, lifting the powdered earth at their feet.

She nodded casually, agreeing with him. "I suppose. Although, you were always the one picking the fight."

He countered, his jaw strained. "You know full well _why_. Someone had to do something, because what you did was—"

"What you _think_ I did." Bitterly sharp words cut through her teeth at that comment, finding the need to bite back the urge to rant on. She changed the topic, forcing herself to calm down, "And for a renowned ranger you always picked the worst of places to fight: the middle of massive crowds or near groups of innocent people. Not the best of your ideas, ranger." A glare now marred her eyes.

"Be that as it may, now we shall settle this once and for all." His eyes showed that he was ready for the fight. "If I win, you turn yourself in."

"And if I win, you will give up on hunting me for a crime that I _did not_ commit." She held her hand out to him. "Agreed?" For a moment, the ranger was silent. However, after a strained instant he locked eyes with her and nodded, grasping her hand and sealing the deal.

She smiled as their hands dropped back to their sides. "Excellent. And I for peace of mind, know that I _never_ go back on my word." Their eyes were still looking at one another, and he could not help but believe her.

"Nor do I." He answered.

Suddenly, a voice hollered down to them, "The first trial will now begin. Competitors, ready your weapons!"

In two well-practiced motions, the duo drew their blades and fell into their fighting stances. Two broadswords were now glimmering in the autumn sun, hovering motionless in the air as they waited. A silence draped itself over the crowd as everyone waited for the announcer to speak. All eyes were locked on the pair below, as they stood unmoving under the autumn sun.

Crisp and clear, the word was spoken, "BEGIN!"

There was an immediate clash of metal on metal, causing some of the unprepared members of the audience of jump. After a moment, mouths and eyes began to gape at the dance that was taking place below them. Dust clouds were already floating from the ground as the ongoing waltz of blades danced on.

Drifter swiftly evaded a strike to the chest, using the momentum from her dodge to lift her blade far above her head. From the audiences view, the blade seemed float to perfectly above her in a show of well-practiced skill before it came down on the opposite side it had been raised from, crashing into the opposing blade, which was pushed back at the force.

In between blocking the attack, the ranger spoke out to her in broken words, "How is it that you are—" Sidestep. Lift. Downward swing. "Able to handle a broadsword?" Such massive double-handed blades were difficult weapons to yield, even by men's standards. So to see Drifter handling one so brilliantly left the ranger curious.

Between a set of quick breaths, she laughed, moving for another strike at him, "I had an excellent teacher—" She let out a sudden yell. For a few seconds, their swords met in a round of relentless attacks and counters and their blades seemed to sing against the other in a harmony of metal.

"It's thinner than most broadswords—" He breathed out, striking out at her again. Their swords pushed against each other for an instant before they both leapt back, falling into their defensive stances.

During the momentary pause, Drifter quickly answered him, "Less weight."

He rolled his eyes at her, "Obviously." She then charged him, swinging down towards his legs. He sidestepped and returned with an attack to her exposed shoulder. Just as the blade would have ripped through her flesh she pulled away, twisting around his blade while moving her own sword to ensure further protection against him.

From above, onlookers were also commenting on the difference between the opposing blades as well as the immense skill the wanderer was showing against the ranger. At this point, regardless of how the trial ended, it was apparent that she was far from an amateur with a sword.

As his eyes continued to assess her form, Boromir spoke, answering Pippin's question regarding his sister's blade, "Your guess as to the reasoning behind the thinness is correct: less metal, less weight. And she is petite to begin with, so it was a much needed adjustment for her." The swords clashed again, ringing out loudly in protest at the contact.

"But that would make it more susceptible to breaking." Merry stated, his eyes glowing in excitement. His eyes had yet to stray from the battle even as he voiced his question. He flinched ever so slightly to see one attack fall particularly close to Drifter, but relaxed to see her slither around the blade before attacking him back in return.

Boromir answered, "Not if you have the right material." During the discussion, all eyes remained fixed on the battling pair. "Her blade is made of a unique metal that is not only stronger against tough damage, but also lighter than the average broadsword." He couldn't help but slip a quiet smile. Seeing as how he was the one to teach her the art of the sword, Boromir knew he'd made a wise decision by crafting such a blade made distinctly for her. She was as elegant with that sword as she was deadly, and it showed.

"And just where did you find such an alloy?" The wizard suddenly inquired, his eyes daring to break from the fight.

Boromir did not meet his gaze. "When your father is the Steward of Gondor, such things are not hard to come by." The wizard knew he would get no further explanation from the man, so he returned his eyes to the battle below.

As Strider brought his blade down again, he wasn't surprised to see it blocked. Drifter then moved forward, and their blades suddenly locked in a pressure battle against one another. Their faces, merely inches apart, were both slightly flush, sweat beginning to trickle down their brows. Their eyes were electrified, not in rage but in excitement and adrenaline. In between breaths the man spoke, "Ready to end this?" He forced her to take a step back.

She smirked up at him, "Yes I am." Their blades parted, and the ranger made a move to strike at her. One, at a mid strike, two, at a low strike, and each one she countered beautifully. Two clashes for each count, and each time she took a step back. Both of his swings were preparing for a final attack on the fourth count. And just as the first two, on the third strike she moved back yet again, moving her blade up to counter his high falling strike from above.

But it was that counter that would prove to be fatal. It allowed him an opening to strike at her exposed side with her blade lifted high above her head in defense. And he took the opening and made the final swing. The larger broadsword came in somewhat low, swinging towards her ribs in an attempt to stun Drifter and force her to the ground. From there, she would inevitably be in a position that would require her to yield. A foolproof plan in his eyes, for it had yet to fail him.

But as the saying goes; there's always a first time for everything.

In a motion of pure agility and speed, she dropped, kneeling so low that she almost kissed the dirt. While she fell, she threw her blade aside and pulled something from her boot, waiting the split second it took for the broadsword to pass over her. The audience was now murmuring loudly. As the blade cleared from above her, eyes widened in astonishment as they watched what followed.

The instant the blade passed, she jumped, clearing the ground in a single leap while throwing all of her weight on the unsuspecting ranger. Halfway through the jump, she grabbed at his bottom wrist and slammed her knees into his stomach. The loss of grip in paired with jab to his abdomen forced the ranger to not only drop his sword, but also caused him to tumble backwards as well.

Soon, Strider was a victim to gravity as he plummeted backwards, landing hard on the dirt behind him with Drifter's knees still lodged in his gut. For a moment, he was winded and coughed violently, trying to catch his breath. As he coughed, the ranger then felt something sharp press against his jugular. His eyes snapped open to see Drifter hovering above him, a smirk on her face and a small blade glimmering in her hand. In between painful gasps, he gaped up at her, genuinely stunned.

She then asked him, "Do you yield?"

Between pants, he answered her, still trying to re-inflate his lungs. His reply was exceptionally raspy, but it was all she needed. "Yes."

And in a motion as swift as the last, she jumped up, standing beside him with the little blade still in her hand. Strider propped himself up on his elbows, trying better to restore oxygen to his lungs. As he raised his head, he saw a hand being presented to him. Looking up further, he saw Drifter offering him her hand. She was smiling down at him.

And he humbly smiled back, taking her hand as she helped him up. For a moment, their hands remained locked, as did their eyes in a moment of final truce. He nodded towards her, their hands finally unlocking, "Well played, my Lady. You have passed your first trial while also shaming me in front of a large audience." He jokingly bowed to her while she returned the hidden blade to her boot, "Congratulations."

From above, some crowd goers were shouting in disbelief, a few in joy and some were simply silent. But the once dueling pair paid them no mind for she could only continue to offer him a smile, "Thank you, but I do apologize for having embarrassed you."

He only shrugged at her, going to pick up his blade and returning it to its sheath. "If it was not you, it had to be me." The man glanced up towards the audience, "And perhaps now, Lord Elrond will finally understand that bringing you along is for the best."

Her eyes were perplexed as she did the same, "You _agreed_ with Gandalf's idea?"

He nodded, beginning to walk towards the staircase that led towards the balconies. "While I do not agree with what you did—" She glared, walking in stride with him. The ranger corrected himself, "Er, what I _think_ you did," the glare lessened, "to have you locked away would be of use to no one." He paused for a moment, "Besides, you have already proved your worth to me on our previous journey."

Her eyes stole over towards him. "You say 'worth' yet we both know that there is more than one meaning to that word." The ranger gestured in agreement, but decided not to comment further. She made no move to argue with him, and they both walked silently back up the staircase, one trailing behind the other.

As soon as they reached to top of the stairs they were bombarded by the Hobbits, all who were chattering about excitedly. Pippin's comment stuck out the most though. "I told you she'd beat him. I _told_ you!"

"I don't think any of us were disagreeing with you Pip." Sam chimed in as Gandalf and Boromir arrived in tow behind them. "Not to say that you're a bad fighter Aragorn."

Drifter's eyes snapped over to the man beside her, "_Aragorn_?" She looked genuinely shocked at the news and gaped at the man standing beside her. "As in the Son of Arathorn?" The man nodded sheepishly, his eyes somewhat downcast.

Her eyes were wide, and the rest of the group turned silent for a moment, no one really knowing what to say. Judging from her reaction, she obviously knew _who_ he was, but just trying to comprehend it was a bit overwhelming.

After a moment, the befuddled Drifter spoke, "Well, that was certainly a surprise." Drifter stated, having come to terms with this new piece of information. She clapped her hands together. "So now what?"

Everyone blinked, some heads turning towards one another. Gandalf spoke, "There is to be a small lunch break before the next trial, so if you'll follow me…" And so he led them down one of many pathways, the entire party trailing behind him.

As they walked, the ranger found himself in step with Drifter. He stole at glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She was pensive, eyes foggy with thought. After a moment she spoke, "My reaction surprised you." This was a statement.

He nodded. She continued, "While, learning the truth about who you really are was certainly unexpected, know this," She looked up to him, eyes now clear, "unlike most, I do not spite you for running from who you are." She let out a quiet laugh and looked ahead, "But you are lucky. I would simply like to know _who_ I am."

Her expression was an odd one. She was smiling, but her demeanor seemed crestfallen. He made a move to speak, but he found himself interrupted. He looked around to see that they had arrived at a courtyard and a table of food had been prepared. Merry and Pippin all but pounced on the banquet with Sam and Frodo following close behind. After a few moments, everyone had a plateful of food and was sitting around enjoying their meal, some on the ground, others in elegant metal chairs.

Merry was juggling apples, the other half-lings hovering around in mirth. Pippin motioned to toss in a fourth, but as soon as he did, two of the apples fell on Pippin's head while the other two fell to the ground. They all laughed as Boromir picked up one the apples that had rolled away.

"Eat your food little ones." He amusingly glared at them, "Do not play with it." He bit into the apple, easily tearing its red flesh open.

From nearby, a soft voice laughed. "You would be one to scold them." Drifter was sitting behind him, popping a grape into her mouth. He chuckled along with her, returning to sit beside her on the bench they had taken up. The Hobbits continued to mingle and Aragorn and Gandalf were casually talking with one another. After a moment, Drifter leaned over, her head coming to rest against her brother's shoulder. She let out a sigh, eyes falling shut after as she tried to enjoy the calmness of the moment. Boromir lifted an arm, bringing it to rest on her shoulder in a comforting manner. For a while, neither of them said a word, content with the serenity the moment had to offer.

After a while, Drifter sat up and stretched, realizing that she must have dosed off at some point. Upon opening her eyes, she noticed that all of the food had been cleared away and her companions had all disappeared. She stood, dusted herself off, and then left, beginning to mosey her way around.

While she didn't have any idea where she was going, she wasn't worried. As long as the she remained in the city, she knew wasn't lost. And so, Drifter just let her feet take her wherever they pleased. She wound her way along the open corridors before her feet took her into one of the cities smaller courtyards.

The space was simple. There were no trees, but a hedge seemed to have overtaken one of the corners of the small space. The unkempt plant strangely had a cleanly cut top, and a few of the remaining white flowers clung to it rather than falling to the ground below. A single marble bench was standing near the overgrown corner and it took her no more than ten steps before she found herself sitting on the old raised stone.

From her seat, she looked about, vaguely noting a few small ground flowers trailing along the grass. She looked back to the spindly bush, bringing her hand up to one of its flowers. They were small things and their petals delicate as they strived to hold onto life. She watched a group of the white petals fall, failing to hold on against a sudden breeze. Her eyes followed them to the ground, landing near their curling brown companions.

But as she looked, she noticed something odd. There was a clean-cut sort of edge poking out just at the base of the shrub. Crouching down, she pulled back the hedge, its leathery leaves crumbling away at her touch.

It was wooden corner, but to what she could only guess. She looked around, fortunately finding no one. So, in her moment of curiosity, she started to pull apart the hedge to reveal whatever it was hiding. After a moment of tugging and pulling, the top of the hedge had been cleared away. But what it revealed to her sent a small wave of confusion through her.

The top had four cut beams of wood that formed a perfectly square rim, leaving a gaping hole in between them. It was obviously some sort of ancient well. She was practically dying of curiosity, and so she grabbed onto the nearest lip of the well, and peered down.

It was pitch dark and somewhat intimidating, but also strangely familiar. Glancing around, she picked up a nearby stone and dropped it into the well. For a moment, it was silent, until she heard the stone hit solid ground below. Unconsciously, she moved both of her hands onto the lip of the well, not noticing herself leaning forward. Then there was quiet noise, a rustling that came from the bottom of the well. Something had _moved_.

Then, without so much as a second thought, the flung herself over, and down into the well.

No sooner had she disappeared, was she enveloped in a familiar violet colored light. It seemed to almost hug her in recognition, joyous to see her again. But then the light pulsated, feeling almost nervous. But then, it got angry, seeming to grow heavy as if it was fighting something.

And then she saw them. _Memories_.

They erupted like a crack throughout her skull; images and long forgotten recollections began to unlock themselves all throughout her conscience mind. There was no sound, but she could suddenly _see_ everything with frightening clarity. There was a faraway country, a family, a tree, a well, a monster, a boy, and a jewel…

Then there was pain. It was hot, aching, and desperately raw. It came from her side where a starburst shaped scar had always lingered. She clutched the old wound, its haunting pain returning at full force. And this, strangely enough, was followed by fear. Against what, she did not know, but she knew that it was a fear for her life.

And then, something happened. A spark reignited within her, as if sensing the danger she was in. At first it was small and fragile, but it swiftly began to grow. And as the spark grew into a great flame, the pain dissipated away to nothing. The light, pleased with the change, had lost its angry vigor and was now fading, as if knowing its task had been completed. And as it faded, she began to fall again. Looking down, she could finally see the ground below her. She braced herself for impact and…

With a rapid jolt, Drifter awoke, her eyes flashing open as she jumped off the bench, startling her brother who had also dosed off beside her. The others all turned to look, noticing the upset. She stood, eyes flashing from side to side as her breath came out in rapid pants.

Boromir instantly rose from his seat, bringing a steady hand to her shoulder. "What is it Eina?" He asked, obviously concerned.

Gandalf quickly strode over, standing in front of the dazed female and looked down into her fogged eyes. After a moment, he retracted, motioning Boromir to help his sister sit down. The man did as asked and Gandalf remained standing, still gazing down at her. After a tense moment, the wizard spoke, "I believe the first of her memories are beginning to return." To this proclamation, everyone stirred, moving closer to hear.

Again, Boromir spoke out to her, "Eina, what is it? What did you see?" She blinked a good number of times and seemed to return to them. Her eyes fell out of their panicked trance and looked to her brother. She then told the audience what she had seen, and retold it to the best of her abilities. After she had finished, it was silent.

"To be honest, that's not much to go off of." Pippin said blatantly.

Merry jabbed him in the side, eyes scolding for once, "Watch it, Pip!"

Gandalf shook his head, "No, he is right. It isn't. But at this stage, it is to be expected. For now, all we can do is wait until she has more pieces to the puzzle before we can truly begin to make any sense of it." Everyone seemed to except this answer and relaxed. "But now, I believe, we must be off. The second trial will be beginning shortly and I doubt Lord Elrond will be pleased if the guest of honor is late."

To that, Drifter snorted, rising up and beginning to follow the rest of the group out. Although still a bit shaken, Drifter managed to relax after a few moments, joining her companions in their lively conversations on their way to the next trial.

After a few moments, they arrived at the very heart of the city. The courtyard seemed to be an intersection of a large number of cobbled paths and there was an intricate white-marble fountain in the center, which quietly gurgled to them as they arrived. Elrond was already present, standing beside a curved table that was adorned in what appeared to be every sort of weapon imaginable.

Gandalf gestured towards the Elf Lord, to which Drifter nodded. "But first," she said, "I'd like to be rid of this." She quickly removed all of the chainmail and arm guards and handed it to her brother, who immediately looked uneasy. She offered him a smile, "I need all of the advantages I can get brother. Don't worry. I will keep a wary eye out." She then turned and strode over to the Elf Lord.

Boromir watched her move off, his eyes still unsure. "You really need to start having more faith in her." Gandalf said, earning a glance from the man.

"It is not that I do not have faith in her, it is that I do not have faith in her enemies to follow the fair rules of engagement." Boromir said, distaste clear in his voice.

"Are you implying that the trial is rigged?" Aragorn asked.

He nodded. "It is no secret that Lord Elrond wishes for her to fail. And after her last performance, I'm sure he will try and make things even more complicated."

"Well, at least this time she her choice at a weapon." Sam nodded towards Drifter, who was now perusing a large table that was covered with weapons of all sorts.

One of Pippin's eyebrows rose. "Is it just me, or does it look like she's _looking_ for something?" Indeed, Drifter was quickly moving along the table, eyes obviously searching for something in particular. She then stopped, eyes immediately lighting up upon finding what she was searching for.

An even more confused and now somewhat anxious look crossed Boromir's face upon seeing her weapon of choice. "Just what is she up to?" He murmured something under his breath, watching his sister sling a bow and quiver over her shoulder before walking back to Lord Elrond.

The others looked at him quizzically, "Up to? What do you mean, 'up to'?" Merry inquired, his head snapping back and forth between Drifter and Boromir in confusion. But Boromir remained silent, eyes now perplexed but also tinted with a hint of concern. They watched another short exchange between the Elf Lord and Drifter, seeing him motion down a path that was dotted with red markers.

"Come along." Gandalf suddenly said, motioning everyone to follow him.

"Where are we going Gandalf?" Sam asked, following in tow behind the wizard, but not before glancing back at Drifter as she began to make her way down the trail.

"To where the final leg of this trial is to take place." After a moments walk, he stopped, coming to the edge of another white balcony.

"Not much of an audience this time 'round." Merry claimed, hopping up to the banisters rail, now looking out over a rather large garden.

The wizard went on, "There is really not much to _see_ during this trial. This is, after all, a test of stealth. Her task is to remain illusive to her enemies. If we are to see anything, it would be here." The garden in itself was laden with trees, shrubs and what was left of the year's flowers and tall grasses, leaving the only cleared walking space to the marble paths that wove through of the garden. Off to the right below them was also an open corridor that had a number of marble archways behind it.

"She is to come through there." Aragorn gestured towards the open corridor, noticing the continuing trail of red markers flow out into the garden they now over looked.

Boromir interjected, "But she has more opponents this time, so it will be some time before she arrives to this place."

"Just how many opponents does she have?" Frodo asked, standing along the marble rail.

"Ten." Gandalf said simply.

The Hobbits' eyes nearly popped out of their heads. "Ten?" Merry yelled in vexation. "That's hardly fair at all!"

"As unfair as that may seem, this _is_ a test of stealth." Aragorn said.

"And what does that mean specifically?" Merry asked, craving for the trials details.

Boromir answered him, now standing alongside the balcony's rail. "She must use her skills to keep from being captured." His expression turned somewhat sour, "And knowing Lord Elrond, if any of them so much as brush to end of her sleeve, she is forfeit."

Merry propped himself up onto his elbows to look over the marble rail, vaguely noting a few vines climbing along the white stone. "So how long do you think it'll take before she gets here?" The half-ling asked.

Gandalf supplied him with an answer; "She has until dark so it could minutes or hours. Given the current hour, I'd say that she has no more than three hours total. So if I were you, Hobbits, I would make myself comfortable. We may be here for a while." Gandalf then found himself a bench to sit on and closed his eyes; now, it was a waiting game.

Boromir strode off, muttering something about the chainmail while Frodo walked over to the wizard. His gaze was troubled. "Do you think she'll be able to do this Gandalf?" The wizard cracked an eye open, seeing the trepidation that was clearly marring the young half-ling's face.

The old wizard smiled gently, "Yes, I do. And after her last performance, I have a feeling that she will only continue to surprise us." Frodo seemed to accept this answer, and his disposition became a bit more relaxed. He then stood beside Merry along the banister, staring out across the garden in wait for their companion's arrival.

* * *

Some time had passed, for the sun was getting very low in the sky. After Boromir returned, he, along with Frodo and Merry, had not moved from the places along the banister. Sam had come to join them after a time while Pippin sat on the floor next to them, looking through the marble beams of the balconies rail. Gandalf remained in his seat and Aragorn he found himself a comfortable piece of wall to lean against.

The stillness of the scene was interrupted at the sound of approaching footsteps. All turned their heads to see Lord Elrond and Arwen appear. The beauty smiled towards Aragorn before walking over to the rail while her father strode towards Gandalf. The wizard and Elf Lord conversed quietly while Arwen's gaze joined in the search across the motionless garden.

The she-Elf sighed, "She has not yet arrived?"

"No," Came five simultaneous replies.

Pippin spoke, his face pressed in between two marble bars, "She must be getting close though. The sun is about to set soon."

As if on cue, a voice yelled out across the garden. And judging by the hot and evidently furious tone coming from the lower corridor, Drifter had arrived at the garden. _"__Tira ten' rashwe, tel' goth__ nevuva lle!__" (__**"Be careful, the enemy nears you!") **_

Instantly, there was a rustle of footsteps as Aragorn, Gandalf and Elrond came to stand along the balcony's rail. Pippin had jumped up in an instant while everyone's eyes danced across the garden. Yet, as they looked out, all was still.

Without warning, Frodo's hand shot out, pointing far across the garden, "There! I saw her!"

With prying eyes, everyone scoured the landscape, missing whatever Frodo had seen. Merry looked accusingly at his fellow half-ling, "Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, because I didn't see anything."

"I saw her, I swear!" Frodo exclaimed, blue eyes glowing in excitement, "I'm certain of it!"

"Are you sure? Because it's getting hard to see much of anything." Pippin commented, with his eyes still plastered in a panning motion across the garden.

"But seeing as how the sun's going down, she'll have the shadows to her advantage again." Sam announced rather happily.

"Yes, she'll be able to do… well, whatever it is she does." Merry said simply, but happily.

"Not necessarily." Gandalf's voice was low, earning a few split-second looks of confusion. "That spell, while suppressing the dark magic, also suppresses her skills that come with it." The half-lings looked horrified.

Boromir looked just as displeased, running a hand across his face. "Then she won't be doing any shadow jumping." His face sank even further, letting out a strained sigh.

"Shadow jumping?" Frodo inquired.

Much to everyone's surprise, Aragorn spoke first, "If she falls into shadow, she can disappear through it and emerge from another shadow elsewhere. I'm sure by now, you all know of what I speak." The Hobbits all nodded, indeed knowing what Aragorn was talking about for they had all seen it before themselves. Now, the previously mysterious action had a name.

The Son of the Steward looked curiously at Aragorn, "You seem to know a lot about this subject ranger."

"Your sister and I have had our fair share of encounters." He said the phrase nonchalantly. Truthfully, he was putting it mildly. By this point, he had seen (and been tormented) enough by that outlandish ability of hers to know how to explain it. But he had no need to upset the already anxious man, so he decided to remain quiet.

"But could you ever _catch_ her?" At this remark, the smallest of smiles made its way up Boromir's face.

The ranger moved to meet Boromir's eyes, "It's hard to track, let alone _catch_ a shadow." Boromir's smile widened ever so slightly, and a temperate look fell over the ranger's face. The ranger went on. "But she no longer has that to her advantage."

"Unfortunately not." Gandalf stated, his face unhappy as well. "But I still have faith in her."

"Faith will only get one so far, Gandalf." Heads turned momentarily towards the Elf Lord, some with accusing stares, others an inquisitive gaze. "Her opponents were chosen specifically for this trial because they are all renowned for their skills in the art of stealth."

Pippin couldn't restrain himself from commenting. "Well, they can't be that great if she's passed nearly all of them." The statement was so horribly blunt that when combined with the serious expression on Pippin's face, a few others had to bite their tongues to keep from snickering.

There was a slight quiver to the Elrond's coy smile, "Be that as it may, _nearly_ will not be enough to have her win this challenge." His eyes, along with the rest of the crowds', were now fixed on the garden below, each still searching for a new sign of movement.

A sudden rustle near one of the trees below sent heads snapping. "There! Did you see?" Merry yelled boisterously, "Something, well, blonde I guess; if that makes any sense." For a moment, everyone watched a nearly invisible and silent chase throughout the garden. The slightest rustle of leaves, a glimpse of black or yellow, and once, the scuttle of a tiny stone were the crowds only inclinations that there was anything worth while happening down in the garden.

Aragorn suddenly spoke up, "And who did you say her final opponent was my Lord?"

The dampened smile on the Elf Lord's face suddenly returned to life, "Legolas Greenleaf."

"I see." Aragorn's lips pursed together at the new bit of information. Arwen looked now exceptionally nervous and Gandalf let out a desolate sigh.

"He's quick." Boromir commented, barely catching another rustle of leaves among the darkening garden.

"He is one of the best." Elrond supplied. "He _is_ the Prince of Mirkwood."

This time, Merry decided to provide a comment, "So that means he's got an arrogant, royal stick shoved up his—"

But before he could finish his shrewd remark, a bright eruption of violet light exploded from across the garden, immediately silencing everyone in utter astonishment. For an instant, the light flew towards a maple tree. Upon contact, the entire base of the yellowing maple was obliterated and the tree began to plummet towards the ground.

To everyone's surprise, a tall figure leapt from the falling tree.

As soon as the figure was air born, another stream of light burst through the ebbing darkness and it just barely slipped past the blonde hairs of its intended target. A few of the onlookers sighed in relief, happy that there were no broken skulls. However, everyone was soon concerned for their own well being, for the path of light was continuing straight towards them.

In a flutter of movement, they all rushed out of the path of the ray of light. And fortunately, all of their backs were turned as the light made an earsplitting crack as it plummeted into the wall behind them.

It took a moment for the group to regain their bearings. "And _that_," Boromir stated affirmatively, pulling himself up from the ground, "is why Eina is forbidden to use a bow."

Sam looked at him with a look akin to disbelief, "Wait; a bow, as in, bow and arrow? That was from a _bow and arrow_?" He picked himself up, blatantly shocked.

"He is right." Aragorn stated, walking up to the arrow that was now rooted into the wall. His expression suddenly turned puzzled, "But what's this doing here?" The others hurried around to see a large brown feather had been pinned beneath the arrow.

"That is impossible." Elrond's face was then contorted with astonishment as well as a hint of anger.

"Improbable, yes. But impossible, never." The voice of Drifter said from behind them. Everyone then turned to see her climbing over the banister. "All rumors aside, Lord Elrond; Elves aren't the only ones who are exceptionally skilled with a bow." A pleased smile was lighting up her face as she walked towards them. In an instant, the Hobbits had sprung over to her and were now yelling in mirth and awe.

The hand of her brother came to land on her shoulder. "While I am proud of your outstanding performance, I must ask as to what in heaven's name convinced you to pick up that bow?" A look of scolding hinted with worry had befallen the blonde man's face upon asking his question.

The eyes of his sister fell to the floor, her hands now twiddling with one another. "I'm sorry I disobeyed, but I had this _feeling_ that it would different this time." Her eyes slunk upwards, her expression cheeky, "And you'll have to admit, it was."

"Now hold on just one minute!" Merry spoke out, his hand sticking far out to the side in proclamation, "You're talking like what happened is normal. How on earth can an exploding arrow be considered _normal_?"

"I think what he's asking for is an explanation." Pippin muttered. Frodo and Sam nodded.

"I would be happy to tell you Pippin," Eina said, which was followed by a look of devilry, "but first, I must ask the Prince to stop trying to hide under the cover of darkness and come forward. After all, the title 'Eavesdropper' is never an honorable one." Her smile only widened as everyone looked to see the Prince of Mirkwood step out from a nearby shadow.

"Your skills are extremely impressive." Through the darkness, a deep, yet smooth voice broke out as a blonde haired figure came to stand in place with the group. He was tall, lean, and as handsome as all Elves were. His voice carried on, "But might I suggest that we continue this conversation somewhere with a little more light? It is getting quite dark after all."

"An excellent idea Legolas." Gandalf agreed. "Master Elrond, I'm sure there is some place we can retire for the moment?" The Elf Lord nodded, not speaking as he led the group down a short series of corridors before coming to stop before the large doors that led to the main dining hall of the city.

As they walked in, Arwen spoke up, noticing that her father was not following them inside, "Are you coming father?"

"Unfortunately not, my daughter. With the circumstances being as they are, there are things in which I need to tend to. But I trust that you will inform me later of the story that is soon to be told?" Arwen's eyes narrowed, but nonetheless she nodded. Elrond smiled, but the action contained no true joy. "Excellent. I will bid you all goodnight then. Until tomorrow." With that, the door closed, and the remaining members of the group continued on through the expansive dinning hall.

The space was massive, and could easily seat a few hundred Elves comfortably. The high ceiling and tall windows gave the space a feeling of grandeur. A few other Elves were scattered sparsely about the space, and only spared them a glance before returning to their meals.

The group chose a table close to one of the rooms many fireplaces and sat down. Aragorn stood next to the fireplace while Gandalf took the chair on the opposite side of the mantle. Everyone else took a place at the table with Boromir and Drifter at one end sitting across from one another. The Prince, however, remained standing, somewhat off to the side and just as silent as before.

As soon as they sat down, Merry piped in, "So just what is all of this talk about Drifter not being able to use a bow?"

"It's not that she is unable, it is that she is not _allowed_." Boromir jumped in knowingly, his hands come to fold across his chest in a look of slight accusation. "And after seeing what just happened, I still stand by that claim."

Drifter looked desperately towards her sibling, "But something was different this time!" They all looked at her quizzically. She buried a hand in her hair, clearly perturbed, "Before, the magic—"

"Magic?" Frodo blurted out from his place on the table's bench. "Is that why the arrows were glowing?"

Drifter nodded, "Yes, my arrows have always had a magical quality to them. Why, I can't rightly say, but before, well... before the magic was _different_."

"How so?" Questioned Gandalf, an eyebrow piqued in interest.

"It was a different color, a much darker purple if I recall correctly, almost black. But it's been years since I last wielded a bow. And…" She trailed off, her hand now pulling a few stray strands of hair back behind her ear. She was clearly uneasy.

Boromir grabbed her hand that was still on the table, grasping it gently in a motion to comfort her. He continued for her, "Before, anything her arrows made contact with would be completely incinerated."

"But that's exactly what just happened. We all saw what happened to the tree and the wall. BOOM!" Merry made an exploding motion with his hands as he spoke, earning a few chuckles from others. "How is this any different?"

Drifter's mouth hung open for an instant, but another voice broke out before her. "She can now gauge how much magic to infuse into the arrows, which she could not do previously; am I correct in my assumption, Eina?" Gandalf sat from his place with a mutedly pleased smile turning up one of the corners of his mouth.

Drifter nodded, happy that someone finally understood what she was trying to get at. "Yes. That's it exactly."

"So you mean you _meant_ to destroy that tree?" Pippin asked with a flabbergasted look on his face.

She nodded again, to which a previously silent voice echoed out, "If this is true, then what was your intention with the feather?" The Prince had scarcely moved, save for his lips as he asked his question.

Drifter looked to him and noticed for the first time, his silver eyes as they were shining against the firelight. She kept eye contact with him as she answered him, for she had never seen such a strange set of eyes. "To remove it from your hair and deliver it to Lord Elrond. That was, after all, my overall objective."

Merry interjected, throwing his hands up in objection, "Hold on; so _not only_ did she have to sneak past all ten of those Elves, but she _also_ had to retrieve that feather?" His tone was appalled. And after seeing no looks of objection, his eyes grew even wider, "How on earth is that fair?"

"It does not have to be." Legolas threw in. "These are Master Elrond's trials, therefore he sets the rules."

"And how can she even try and pass them if they're horribly unfair and nearly impossible to complete?" Merry bit back, beginning to rise up in opposition.

Aragorn stepped in, not wanting his future comrades to be on ends with each other before their journey even began. "While most of us agree with you Merry, Legolas is right; these are Lord Elrond's trials. He can delegate them however he desires." Merry's eyes were searing towards the Elf Prince, but a hand came to pull on his sleeve.

The hand belonged to Pippin, who helped ease his friend back into his seat. "Sit down Merry." Pippin said quietly, "Aragorn is right."

"Indeed." Gandalf murmured quietly, "And whether they are fair or not, it is refreshing to see our friend performing so brilliantly regardless of the dubiousness of her tasks." Drifter's eyes lit up, now looking embarrassed at the compliment.

The others couldn't help but smile as the wizard went on. "Now, I believe that is getting to be rather late, so we should all be off to bed." The half-lings all groaned, "Come now, up you get." He pulled Pippin gently at the back of his collar to help him get moving. After a few seconds, everyone was walking out of the hall and back towards their private sleeping quarters.

Everyone said their goodnights as they lessened in numbers, some coming to their rooms before others and parting ways for the evening. As Boromir closed the door to his sister's room, he looked back towards the wizard, along with Legolas and Aragorn, who had yet to part from the group.

As they all began to meander again, Gandalf spoke, "So, what did you think of her Legolas?"

The Elf was taken aback at this statement, one of his eyebrows shooting up in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

Gandalf's eyes were all but dancing in the moonlight though none but him could notice. However, his tone remained just as nonchalant as before. He asked again, "What did you think of her? Her skills, and tactics; how did you feel she performed?" During this exchange, a new but well-controlled expression had overcome Boromir's face. Yet he remained silent, simply listening.

"As I said before; her skills are truly remarkable." He chuckled, "Although, Elladan and Elrohir were obviously displeased with her accomplishment."

The others laughed along with him, "Yes, they did seem rather displeased earlier." Boromir added, soon coming to stop in front his own room. He nodded, bidding them goodnight before disappearing behind the door.

As soon as the door clicked shut, a voice spoke, "I trust you two know your way about the city. With that being said; goodnight." Gandalf then turned down the hall and began to walk back in the direction from which they came. The Man and Elf watched him for a moment, listening to the playful tune that Gandalf was now whistling.

Aragorn glanced at his Elf friend, "He's up to something." The duo then turned, resuming their stride in the other direction.

"It would seem that he is _always_ up to something." The Elf finished, walking in pace with his friend. "Although, what that may be exactly, we will probably never know." The ranger nodded in agreement. For a moment, all was silent save for the tapping of their boots as they walked.

Aragorn suddenly let out a laugh, earning a curious look from Legolas, "We have something else in common now."

"And what is that?"

A humorous smile broke out across the ranger's face, "We have both been shamed by the same woman." This comment earned quick laugh from the Prince, who shook his head at the ranger.

"At least my defeat was more subtle than yours." The conversation was far more joking than serious, livening their walk as they made their way along.

"But you are far older than I." The ranger mockingly retorted, "To have been defeated by someone as young as she should bring you more embarrassment."

The Elf laughed at this, a smile playing at his lips, "Be that as it may, I can always propose a rematch to regain my honor."

"True." Aragorn's face turned serious, "That is, if she can make it through tomorrow."

"Do not give up hope just yet, Estel." The Elf supplied, "She has already proven that she is not what she seems. I feel that tomorrow will be no different."

The ranger gave him a look of curiosity, "You know as well as I the darkness of her past. Yet you already speak so well of her."

The Prince was quick to reply. His words were honest, but far from cruel. "You are not one to chastise someone for the past, Estel. If you did, I would henceforth have to address you as a hypocrite." The Elf laughed under his breath, after seeing the flustered look on his friend's face. "Besides, the Hobbits already trust her without question."

"But they are naïve."

"As are all children." He paused for an instant, his eyes trailing upwards towards the stars, "While they see the world far differently than you and I, if you take the time to listen to them, you may come to find that children are actually the most brilliant of all beings."

The ranger was rendered silent at this comment, which he would later admit was truer than he could ever imagine. As the silence faded, the remainder of their walk was filled with other bits of small talk. At one point, the duo parted ways to their own rooms, knowing they would have to be up early again tomorrow.

In one of the many bedchambers across the city, laid a raven-haired beauty that had already fallen victim to sleep. In another was her brother, not in bed, but pacing, occasionally looking out into the night with his eyes lost to the far side of his thoughts. And in a third was a Hobbit, whose blue eyes were finally closing after all of the day's excitement. And in nearly all the rest were dreamers, each awaiting the event that awaited them the day ahead.

* * *

"You're almost there Drifter." Pippin said excitedly. It was morning, and the group had rendezvoused back at the arena where the first trial had taken place, which was to also be the place of the third and final trial. Everyone had gathered around the training grounds yet again with another large crowd already having congregated in the upper balcony.

Drifter, who was now wearing a new set of clothes, was also adorned in many pieces of chainmail and leather armor yet again; her broadsword was at her side yet again.

The group stood near the top of the steps down to the training grounds, everyone seeming to offer their own pieces of advice at once.

"This is a test of teamwork, so be sure to watch your companion's back as well as your own." Boromir suggested.

"Never let your guard down." Added Aragorn.

"And don't be afraid to use those peculiar arrows of yours." Legolas's face was calm, but his eyes were dancing with humor.

The raven shot him a mocking glare. "I _would_ if I was allowed to use them." Much to everyone's dismay, Elrond had forbid her from using a bow in the final trial. Instead, she now had a small dagger at her side should she need it.

"Who needs magical arrows anyway?" Pippin suggested, "If you have to, take a few dirty shots. Sure, they'll probably hate you for it, but you're got to do what you've got to do to win." Everyone looked at him with yet another look of pure lunacy, to which he simply either ignored or was completely unaware of.

In the moment of stunned silence, Drifter managed to speak, "I appreciate all of your advice, but may I simply ask _who_ my teammate is?" Upon asking this, a new and rather gruff voice spoke out.

"That would me, lass." Everyone looked behind Gandalf and Boromir to see a very short and squatty figure briskly (or as briskly as possible for one his size) walk towards their group. His beard was long and thick, not to mention a very noticeable vermillion color. With armor, a helmet, and a brutal looking ax in hand all while having a fierce look of determination on his face, he looked like a force to be reckoned with.

"A Dwarf?" Drifter immediately voiced, surprise evident in her voice and expression.

"No, actually, I'm a Gnome." He snorted, "Of course I'm a Dwarf!" His voice boomed loudly, causing some of the Hobbits to shrink away at the increased volume.

Drifter seemed un-phased by this, "I'm not questioning your race; I'm merely surprised at the fact that you are _here_, of all places."

"As am I." The Dwarf said gruffly, "But you've got to follow orders despite you own personal opinion."

She laughed for an instant, humored at his words, "This is true." She extended her hand out to him, "I am Eina."

The Dwarf, along with almost everyone else, seemed astonished at her humility. For an instant, he debated whether or not to take her gloved hand, but after a moment, he lifted his round fingers and grasped her hand in a firm hold.

"And I am Gimili." After the quick gesture, he carried on, "Introductions aside, I think it's time we get to the arena. Can't have my host thinking up yet another reason to toss me out." Eina stifled a laugh, but nodded, then smiled as she trailed after a figure half her size down the staircase and into the arena.

As they stepped out onto the flat training grounds below, a voice hollered out from above them, "You can do it Eina!" Looking up, they saw Pippin cheering loudly out into the midmorning sky, clearly excited for the event that was to come.

Gimili chuckled, "Lively bunch aren't?" She couldn't help but let a small laugh slip, nodding in agreement.

The Dwarf suddenly let out a guttural sound of obvious distaste, "Why am I not surprised?" He then muttered something about accursed Elves and cockroaches under his breath.

One of Eina's eyebrows rose in momentary confusion. That was, until she followed the eyes of her comrade to see the two figures that had appeared before them; a duo of what must have been brothers; both were tall, posed and handsome with dark brown hair, electric blue eyes and devilish smiles. Not to mention they were seemingly identical in appearance.

After a moment, Eina's eyes widened, "You two." She spoke with a tinge of uneasiness in her voice. She boots shifted against the dirt.

The one on the left spoke, his voice deep, "Today we hope to regain our honor, seeing as how you so elegantly managed take it from us yesterday."

She scoffed, eyes half lidded and un-amused, "I'm sorry having robbed you of it."

The Dwarf let out a loud outburst of laughter, "So you've already defeated them once before? Excellent." Gimili flexed his gloves, gripping his ax in anticipation.

"Do not be so hasty in your thinking _Small One_. She got lucky yesterday." The brother on the right had spoken, causing Gimili's face to turn flush and his hands flexed even more aggressively against his ax.

"You would do well, _Elf_, to watch your tongue." Gimili's rage was quickly beginning to boil. "Or my ax might just slip between your eyes."

"Don't worry Gimili," Eina cut in, hoping to kill some of the tension between the two quarrelling races. Her eyes were marred with dislike and a new sense of edge. "You'll have your chance to publically humiliate them; have patience." Her eyes shifted towards the once again massive crowd above them, listening as a new voice spoke.

From above, another voice rang out, "The third, and final trial will commence as follows: as a test of comradeship, the team that forces their enemy to yield will be pronounced the victor. You may begin!"

Without so much as taking a breath, the brothers leapt backwards, sending a shower of arrows towards Eina the Gimili who hardly had time to react. After a moment, the flying daggers stopped, allowing the he-she duo time to catch their breath.

"Wretched pointy-ears and their uncanny agility." The Dwarf's said loudly. Their enemy was now a good distance away, having run out of arrows, swiftly returning their bows to their shoulders. One brother then drew a sword, the other, a set of knives.

"Do not blame us for your lack of mobility, Small One." The brother with the sword reproached. Gimili growled.

Eina scoffed as she swiftly but elegantly drew her own blade from its sheath. Just as her companion took a step forward, she spoke, eyes still locked on their opponents. "Patience Gimili." Slowly, their enemy was pressing forwards, drifting silently across the dirt like ghosts. Her voice was hushed, glancing back at the trees behind them for an instant. "Let them attack first." Her eyes snapped forward again; they'd closed the distance between them by half, but they were still only slowing advancing towards them.

"It would be foolish to think we could out run them." She said, with her eyes still locked on the brothers.

The twin with the blades let out a laugh, "A wise choice on your part, _Wethrinaer_." This time, it was Eina whose knuckles turned white. Her boots halted against the dirt as she stopped in her retreat, eyes now glaring venomous daggers.

Gimili stopped beside her, his eyes noticing the look of fury in her eyes. Before his lips even parted to ask, she flew forward in a blur that rivaled even that of the Elves as she hurled herself at the twin who had spoken last.

He brought his blades on at the last possible instant, having to jump back in order to properly block her vicious assault. The other brother joined in, leaving Eina attacking and dodging both of the brothers at once.

"What happened to patience?" Gimili hollered, jogging forward to join the fight.

She never answered him. Instead, his ax joined in the clashing of metals that relentlessly proceeded to ring throughout the arena. The audience gasped every moment or so, thinking someone's head was surely going to fall with the ferociously the two teams were fighting at.

After a time, Gimili and Eina had been forced retreat to the trees surrounding the arena. Gimili was huffing loudly as they both hid behind two large tree trunks. "Give up." A voice hollered from behind them.

"You have no chance at defeating us." Another voice said, this time from in front of them. Startled, the duos' eyes scanned the trees, hoping to find just where the voice had been coming from. Yet the trapped pair saw no one. "There is no hope for you now." The voice in front of them had moved closer. A twig snapped, leaves rustled; they were taunting them now.

Gimili spoke, "Run for it lass."

She snapped her head towards him, eyes marred with an incredulous look. "What?"

He nodded swiftly a few times, "You heard me; run!" He spoke in between heavy breathes.

Her eyes fell back into the trees in front of them. Her gaze was set, "No."

"Listen to me!" He urged, "I may be slow, but I can still fight! If they stay and fight me, that'll give you some time to think of a counterattack and—"

"No!" Her voice was firm. She looked over to him, eyes serious. "You are my comrade and I won't leave you behind; we will fight together until the end."

"Then you have won." A precariously charming voice said into her ear.

On reflex, she swung around, her blade coming to slice a few long brown hairs before making contact with the bark of a tree. She dislodged her sword, swinging again at her opponent who countered with his blade. For an instant, there was a clash of metal and then and then an unexpected shout.

"Stop, lass!" Gimili hollered, following after her, "He's right; you've won." All sense of urgency had vanished from the Dwarf's voice and his face was calm.

"What?" Eina inquired, jumping back with her sword still in hand.

"The Dwarf is correct." The other twin appeared, returning his blades to their sheaths on his back as he stepped out from the trees. "While this was a test to see how well you worked with a teammate, that was not this trials true purpose; it was to see if you would stand by your comrade until the end, which you did."

"Thus, as I stated previously; you have won." Her opponent from seconds previously sheathed his own sword.

The other brother spoke out, "You have passed all of the trials. Well done." The twins bowed to her, but the look of shock and disbelief had yet to disappear from Eina's face.

That was, until a yelp of triumph came from above, "SHE'S DONE IT, HA-HAA!" Pippin had flung himself onto the rail in excitement the other members of the Fellowship applauding beside him. Sam whistled loudly, and soon the other Hobbits joined in the jubilant shouting. Her stance relaxed as she watched them.

As her eyes tore away from the ecstatic Hobbits, she couldn't help but ask, "So that's it? That's the end of the trial?" A piece of her almost expected them to unsheathe their weapons and attack her full force.

But they didn't.

One of the twins spoke, "It is. Unless you would care to have another?" She hastily declined.

The other laughed, "I'm sure father would take you up on your offer."

She blinked once, then twice before relaxing and returning her sword to its sheath. She did not move however, and kept her distance. A gruff, but entertained voice spoke from behind her, "Calm down lass; it really is over."

"Did you know about this Gimili?"

A tiny look of guilt crossed the Dwarf's face, "Aye; sorry lass. But it had to be done. Elrond's orders." The Dwarf began to walk back towards the staircase, with Eina at his side and the brothers walking ahead of them.

"This was father's last attempt at trying to show that you were unworthy; the ultimate test if you will."

"However, you managed to prove him wrong quite brilliantly." His tone sounded unusually pleased.

"And you two are happy about that?" Eina asked, raising an eyebrow at the twins.

His counterpart replied, "It's not everyday that someone manages to one-up our father."

The other brother bounced off his twin, "And what's more important is that you proved just how loyal you are to your companions."

"This was the ultimate test."

"And despite being unaware of its true purpose, you still passed with flying colors."

"Explanations aside, let us properly introduce ourselves."

The brothers stopped just at the bottom of the staircase as the other continued, "I am Elladan." He partnered the introduction was a dangerously charming smile before continuing up the stairs. Gimili was already making his was up before him.

"Aren't you going to stay for our introductions Master Dwarf?" Elladan inquired, his tone laced with a false sense of hurt and sarcasm.

Gimili snorted, not even bothering to look back, "I already know who you two hoodlums are." Without another word, the ax-baring Dwarf kept on his way.

"Now wait just one moment; we are _not_ hoodlums." Elladan started after the Dwarf, still chattering after him as to how he and as brother were not, in fact, childish troublemakers.

The remaining twin laughed, shaking his head for a moment before turning back to Eina. "And I am Elrohir, my dear Lady." The other copied his brother with the smile, only going a step further by taking her hand and planting a delicate kiss on her knuckles. The faintest touch of blush came to Eina's cheeks as she tucked her chin towards her neck. Now _that_ was certainly not expected.

He chuckled quietly at her reaction, gently releasing her hand. "Come. Much to father's dismay, there is to be a celebratory dinner in honor of your accomplishments."

"Really?" She laughed, "I'm flattered." The duo climbed the staircase and was greeted by a shower of jubilance. Pippin immediately flung his arms around her in a bear hug, Merry was doing a victory dance, and other words of praise lofted through the air upon her arrival.

To everyone's surprise, the voice of Elrond broke out among the crowd. "You have passed all of my trials." Everyone turned to see the Elf Lord; his face was calm, and his eyes sincere. "Despite my own beliefs, what matters is that you have earned the trust of your company. And you have." He looked to Eina, "Congratulations. You are now apart of the Fellowship of the Ring."

* * *

_It's hard to track, let alone catch a shadow._

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I do not own InuYasha or Lord of the Rings.

Ta-da! An unexpected update. And I have no idea how this chapter got so long… but anyway, if anyone's confused let me know. I'd be happy to clarify any confusion. And I hope the battle scenes weren't too horrible. I've never really written them before. But I hope you all enjoyed the update! Please let me know what you think.

Until later


	8. How and Why

Chapter Eight

_How and Why_

The morning had finally come for the Fellowship to depart and the group, in all of their traveling glory, stood in a small glade at the edge of the city waiting for their host to see them off. From beneath a magnificent stone arch they waited. Other members of the city had come to witness their departure, Arwen among them. Yet, Legolas, Aragorn, and Lord Elrond had yet to appear, although no one was too worried.

However, a certain dwarf's temper was beginning to light. "What's taking those Elves so long?" Gimili grumbled. "Just because _they_ live forever doesn't mean they should waste any more of _our_ time." Eina giggled. Boromir shook his head in amusement.

"And you lass," Gimili's gaze turned towards Eina, "I feel as if you are not entirely mortal either." To his proclamation, others couldn't help but cast a curious glance their way. The conversation had diverged to something blatantly more personal.

Eina's eyes shot towards the dwarf, "A wise thing of you to notice, Gimili. But you are right, in some sense, at least. I have not aged a day since I first met my brother. He can attest to that." Her eyes glanced to Boromir for an instant, "Although, why that is, no one can rightly say."

"But only the Elves are immortal." Sam said.

"And I am not an Elf." She replied quietly, adjusting the bow and quiver that were now slung over her shoulder.

"You, my dear, are something else entirely." Gandalf concluded, offering her a small smile. "Something, that perhaps over the course of our journey, we may truly discover."

A new voice entered the scene. It belonged to the ranger. "The others will be coming along shortly." Aragorn had arrived, now leading a small pony that had numerous packs strapped to its sides. "Lord Elrond had something he wished to discuss with Legolas before our departure."

"Most likely business matters for his father back home in the Woodland Realm, I presume?" Gandalf suggested. Aragorn only shrugged, coming to stop near the archway in which they were soon to depart from.

"And who's this?" Merry asked, having come to inspect the little auburn horse.

"This is Bill." Aragorn ruffled the animal's mane. The pony shook its head in response.

"He's rather sweet." Sam said, patting the pony's side while Bill proceeded to nibble on some of the dried grass nearby. Aragorn handed Sam the reins. This earned a small smile from the Hobbit.

The ranger was correct in his guessing, for not a moment later, Legolas and Elrond arrived on the scene. The Elf Lord stood just apart from the crowd as Legolas took his place among the Fellowship. Elrond's words were serious as he spoke the last goodbyes, "The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him no oath nor bond is laid, to go further than you will."

Leaves were falling and scattering to the ground around them as they all stood, silently listening. "Farewell. Hold to your purpose. May the blessings of Elves and Men and all free folk go with you." With his final words spoken, Elrond spread his arms wide as a last gesture of parting. Legolas and Aragorn both bowed their heads to him. Eina nodded slightly, thankful to have survived her first visit to the Elvish City.

"The Fellowship awaits the Ring-bearer." Gandalf said, with a hand on his staff and looking to Frodo. The Hobbit in question then turned and began to walk under the arch, with the rest of his company in tow behind him.

While his eyes were uncertain, his feet kept along. Although, after soon coming to a fork in the road, he whispered to the wizard beside him, "Mordor, Gandalf, is it left or right?"

The wizard whispered a quick reply, "Left." And so the Fellowship followed Frodo along, beginning their journey together as the Fellowship of the Ring.

But for a moment, one of their fellows lingered. Aragorn's eyes turn to Arwen as she stood among the crowd. Their eyes meet, saying silent words that only they can understand. The beauty's face was sorrowful, but Aragorn smiled ever so faintly before nodding a last farewell. With that, he too turned and began to follow his companions out of the city.

For hours they walked, traveling through the woods, across wide-open plains and over rolling hillsides. During this time there was some small talk, but most of the time all was quiet, for each of them was lost to their musings as they pondered the journey ahead of them.

The day ebbed on, and the sun was high in the sky when they came to a stop on a large outcropping on the side of a mountain in the midst of the wild. The Hobbits had began to mutter about their current state of being (which, in Merry and Pippins' case, had been "positivity starving") so it was decided that they would stop for a short time to eat and gather their bearings before continuing on their way.

Sam was at the fire cooking up sausages and tomatoes. Boromir was teaching Merry and Pippin how to properly use a sword. Aragorn was nearby, watching the scene play out as Pippin moved up to take his turn to practice.

For every motion, Boromir called out, "Two, one, five. Good! Very good." As the lesson moved on, there was a continual clashing of blades.

With his pipe teaming with smoke, Aragorn spoke out to the half-ling. His words were encouraging. "Move your feet." Pippin did as instructed, and was once again dancing along the dirt to avoid Boromir's attacks.

Through a mouthful of food, Merry spoke to his friend, "Good job Pippin."

The other Hobbit didn't have time to look away but breathed a small, "thanks" before having to counter another strike from Boromir. The man gestured to Merry, encouraging him to join in the lesson whilst continuing to spar with Merry. The other half-ling swallowed his last bit of tomato before picking up his sword and joining in.

From farther off, Eina watched her brother egg the Hobbits on faster, watching them dance about against his attacks. The Hobbits were doing surprisingly well. She smiled at the sight, not noticing a pair of eyes watching her.

"You are happy to be back in your brother's company." Legolas had stepped up besides her, following her eyes down to their comrades as they sparred below them.

She glanced over at him, nodding. "Yes," Her eyes continued to watch the half-lings. Her smile widened, "He is kin of my heart." The expression on her face was clearly one of love for her brother, "He is very dear to me; he was there for me when others were not and trusted me when no one else would."

"You speak of darker times?" The elf inquired.

She answered with a nod. Her face turned passive, and her words somber. "Times, in which, I believe you are already aware of due to your… _extensive_ relation to the ranger."

"I have only heard Aragorn's version of the tale. Yet I am curious how _you_ tell it." Legolas paused after a moment, careful with the words that followed. "I would listen, if you would be willing to tell your side of the story."

Seconds passed and a look of contemplation crossed the raven's porcelain face. A sudden burst of wind rushed passed, lifting her hair from her shoulders. She sighed her shoulders slumping ever so slightly, "Yet, herein lies the problem, Prince. I _have_ no story."

The unmistakable look of confusion on the Prince's face suggested she continue. Her voice dropped to a near whisper, and her words were short but dangerously clear, "He claims that I murdered an entire village of people and he claims to be the sole witness." She paused looking back down to Boromir and the half-lings. "And all I have is my word against his."

"Your word being?"

"That he's accusing the wrong person." She paused a moment, her voice becoming soft. "I have no recollection of _ever_ committing such an act, nor would I ever even contemplate committing such a horrible crime."

"Surely you have an alibi?" He asked.

"Oh, I do, believe me; and my brother's, father, and the entirety of the White City can vouch for me. At the time of the massacre, I had just met my brother. And during _that_ time, I was _hardly_ in any sort of state to be walking, let alone murdering people." She sighed, "And _that_, is all the word I have."

For a moment, they were silent, watching their comrades' spar. Another breeze filtered past. She suddenly scoffed, her eyes now lost to a memory as she stared out across the rolling hills around them, "Our first encounter was interesting. For days, I knew the ranger had been tracking me. At first I thought it was fun; a game of cat and mouse, if you will." She openly laughed, but after a moment her face fell a small frown marred her lips.

"But he was unrelenting in his search. After a time, I grew curious as to _why_ he refused to leave me to my wanderings. So one night, I let him close enough to try and ask him just that." She looked to the elf, a look of diluted sarcasm crossing her face. "And I'm sure you know how well _that_ went."

"So him running at you with a sword and calling you a murderer did not end well then?" The elf suggested.

She rolled her eyes, "Indeed. And I tried then, and numerous times thereafter, to try and explain that he had the wrong person, but he wouldn't listen." She ran a hand across her face at the memory.

"Then perhaps it was your evil twin who committed the crime." Legolas said.

Eina laughed, shaking her head at him, "You, have a very peculiar sense of humor, Prince."

"Please, call me Legolas." He spoke, looking over to her. With a small smile he continued, "We are comrades, after all."

She blinked a few times, surprised at his suggestion. But after a moment, she nodded, a quiet smile falling across her lips. "Alright then." Her eyes took to the sky, admiring the mountains from afar. Moments passed and the clashing of blades and the murmurs of their comrades could be heard from around them. But for that one moment, the silence between them was peaceful.

With their eyes once again watching the half-lings practice, Legolas spoke out after a few moments of serenity, "Though he will never admit it, Aragorn was fearful of you upon your first encounter."

"Aragorn? Afraid of _me_?" Her shoulders jived in sync with her laughs. Eina shook her head, humored at his words. "You must be joking Legolas."

But the Prince's expression quickly silenced her outburst; his face was precariously sober. When she quieted, he continued, "For having allegedly killed so many people so effortlessly _and_ singlehandedly, his fear is actually quite understandable. He feared your power and what you could become should you wander down the wrong path. So he decided to keep a watchful eye on you to ensure you did not stray into darkness." The Prince suddenly laughed, "That, and he claims that you are too mysterious for your own good, and that irks him to no end."

"And all of this is based of what he _thinks_ he saw." She huffed, exasperated, "Whomever _did_ murder all of those innocent people, I hope they reveal themselves so I can run them through with _my _sword for having to put up with him for so long."

Legolas laughed, shaking his head, "And you say that I have a peculiar sense of humor."

She shot him a mock glare, pared with a contented smile. Her gaze shifted to the landscape yet again. "It is not often that I discuss the alleged secrets of my life. But you, Prince… you, for whatever reason, make it easy." Her stare remained fixed out across the tumbling hills around them as Legolas looked to her as she spoke. A bittersweet simple fell over her lips, "Your kindness is not something I encounter often."

"It is not hard to be kind to others." Legolas said, smiling to her. "You were burdened with a false allegation against your name. An allegation that has remained with you for years, despite the legitimacy of it."

"You almost speak as if you believe me." Her brow then furrowed. "Why?" A gentle breeze came between them and he could only smile back at her.

"Why not?"

Eina couldn't help but smile. She was about to continue their refreshing conversation, when a curious thing happened.

A sudden tickle began to make its way down her spine, almost as if cool water was now trickling beneath her skin. At first it was hardly noticeable, but after a moment, it became hard to ignore. She turned her head, looking around in both curiosity and befuddlement. Legolas eyed her with a furrowed brow, noticing her shift in behavior. "Is something wrong?" He asked.

She stood, her expression now sober and still just as perplexed. To the elf's surprise, it also appeared somewhat anxious. "I'm not sure." She answered, beginning to walk off. To her comment, Legolas stood, following Eina over to where Gandalf and Gimili were perched.

Gandalf was smoking a pipe as they approached, and they managed to catch the very end of his conversation with their dwarf companion, "I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice." The dwarf huffed boisterously, muttering under his breath about delicious malt beer. With their boots tapping against the dirt, Gandalf turned his gaze towards the duo as the gap between them closed.

The wizard offered them a small grin, "I trust the half-lings are taking well to their lessons?" His smile widened, seeing the half-lings tackling Boromir to the ground. But his smile soon faded after seeing the look of worry marring Eina's face. "Is something wrong my dear?"

"I'm not sure." The peculiar feeling was now tracking down her entire spine and trailing up into her skull. It was not a painful thing per say, just distracting. And then, for whatever reason, she felt her gaze being pulled south and off into the sky. She then lifted a hand a pointed out across the horizon, "There."

For an instant they all simply stared, confused as to what it was they were supposed to be looking at. But then it appeared.

"What is that?" Sam asked from behind them, a black wisp having now filtered towards them across the midday sky.

Gimili let out a bellowing response, "Nothing, it's just a whiff of cloud."

"It's moving fast." Boromir had stood, pulling the Hobbits' with him. "Against the wind..."

"Crebain from Dunland!" Legolas yelled.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Aragorn let out his own commands, "Hurry, hide!"

In a flurry of motion the Fellowship gathered their things, doused the fire, and bolted for places to hide from the black birds. They took cover under short rock overhands and bushes, all of them somehow managing to find cover just as the birds arrived on top of their camp.

The birds were cawing loudly, their blackness marring the light of the mid day sky. From her hiding spot, Eina peered between the branches of the shrub to try and catch a better glimpse of the menacing birds. Although, with her spine seemingly pulsating at the mere presence of the birds, it was hard for her to put much concentration in actually looking at them. By now, the feeling was downright irksome. Eina closed her eyes, wishing for both the birds and the tingle in her spine to disappear.

But as soon as it seemed to begin, it ended. After having circled the hill, the Crebain returned to the higher parts of the sky and began to fly back from the direction they had come. When their caws finally began, the Fellowship emerged from their hiding places. They all looked to one another in a new sense of worry.

"Spies of Saruman! The passage South is being watched." Gandalf proclaimed, his staff in hand. "We must take the pass of Caradhras." All eyes turned towards the white mountain looming above them. Pippin visibly cringed, Sam groaned, and Gimili let out an indignant huff. The dwarf then turned, his eyes catching a peculiar sight.

"You alright lass? You look pale." Although he'd never admit it, look of slight concern crossed the dwarf's face. The others all turned, noting the shade of white that had overtaken Eina's face.

With all eyes now locked solely on her, Eina cracked a small smile, one corner of her lips tilting up ever so slightly, "I'm fine." Her eyes shot towards the skies and the maleficent black cloud that was drifting away from them, "Those things are just rather unsettling."

"Those birds would bring a chill to even the most hardy of adventurers." Merry chimed in. He picked up his pack and began to walk off ahead of everyone towards the mountain. Gandalf's eyes lingered on her ashen face for a moment before heading off after the half-ling. As the rest of the Fellowship began to leave the camp, Boromir's lips were drawn in a thin line as he watched his sister stride ahead of them, putting a good distance between herself and any of her companions.

"You seem troubled." Aragorn voiced, standing beside Boromir for a moment.

"She is lying." Boromir stated. He then began to walk, the ranger in tow with him.

"How can you tell?"

"She is my sister. After so many years, you simply pick up on those sorts of things." While the man's words were nonchalant, his expression looked no less concerned. Boromir let out a quiet sigh, "She always smiles like that when she lies. Though why, or even what she is lying about, I cannot rightly say."

Legolas had joined them in their walk, having overheard their previous exchange. "I am sure she will overcome it or come to you for guidance." The elf looked to Boromir as he spoke, but the man's face remained unconvinced.

"We shall see." Boromir exclaimed, adjusting his shield as it hung from his back, "She can be ridiculously stubborn when it comes to talking about things that trouble her."

Legolas was somehow remaining to be optimistic, "Our journey is long. I am certain there will be enough time to discover what troubles her."

The wind against their faces was beginning to chill as they approached the foot of the mountain. "Perhaps, Prince." Boromir's gaze shot up towards the new hurdle they were being forced to climb. "Perhaps."

%^&

Before long, the dirt and grass beneath their feet gave way to fresh powdered snow that was as pristine as it was blinding. With the expansive clear blue sky above them, the Fellowship pressed on, making a single path through the white snow. The half-lings, save for Frodo, had taken their place near Gandalf as the wizard continued to lead them across the slopes of the mountain. From behind them, followed Eina. She was skill keeping a good pace away from the rest of their company, for she was still lost to her thoughts.

However, her thoughts were suddenly interrupted, "It has come to our observation that something is troubling you." Legolas caught the look of surprise on her face, "Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you."

She shook her head, slightly embarrassed for having been caught so off guard, "No, it's alright. I was just thinking."

"Of whatever it is that's been bothering you since this morning?" The elf pressed.

There was a pause. However, she eventually came to nod, but remained quiet. And as the silence between them dragged on, Legolas wasn't sure that she was even going to give him a proper answer.

But then she surprised him, "Those Crebain. Gandalf said they were spies of Sarumon?" The Elf nodded. She continued, "I know this may sound crazy, but I think I could _sense_ them." She tentatively looked over to the prince, hoping his wasn't looking at her like she was a complete lunatic.

To her astonishment, his expression was much more relaxed, even enlightened, "That would actually make a great deal of sense." He let out a soft chuckle. Eina's jaw had half dropped, and one of her eyebrows had shot up. "You seem surprised at my response." He chimed.

But upon his words, her jaw snapped shut, and her eyes flew to the ground, embarrassed, yet again, for having been caught so off guard. "Forgive me." She muttered, the faintest of pink hues now marring her cheeks. "But how does that make any sense?" Her eyes then peered back up at him in curiosity.

"To say you can sense the presence of creatures of darkness is no stranger than me saying I can speak to trees." Another bewildered brow shot up on Eina's forehead. The prince laughed whole-heartedly at her crazed expression, his eyes sparking in mirth. "For one who wanders, you seem to know very little of Elvin kind."

With their boots still crunching against the snow, Eina shot the elf a mock glare, "Your kind, much like the Ranger, seemed to find great sport in hunting me. And _they_ were much more effective." Her face grew dark, "It was difficult at times, escaping their traps. Lord Elrond made sure of that."

"And yet here we walk, side by side, up the ridge of this mountain." There was something odd about this statement, some foreign meaning to his words that she could not quite comprehend. For a moment, she was quiet, mulling his words over in her mind with the snow continuing to crunch against their boots as they strode ever further up the mountain.

She pulled a strand of hair behind her ear, "To say you are an exception, Prince, would only be half true. While it goes without saying that for the course of this journey we must all put our differences aside for the better of the Fellowship, there is something else—" her voice trailed off as her gaze turned towards the Prince, "—something else about you that inspires me to trust you."

A small smile dancing about his lips as he next spoke, "And I can only hope that you believe me when I say that this trust is reciprocated." To his words, she nodded and for an instant, their eyes met and they both smiled.

But from behind them, came a sudden crashing of snow and all heads turned to see Frodo tumbling back down the slope. Luckily, Aragorn wasn't too far behind him, and kept the hobbit from falling further down the mountainside. As soon as he was steadied, Frodo reached for the chain on his neck, only to find it not in its place. The half-ling's eyes turned upward, catching the Ring glistening a short ways up the slope as it sat resting in the snow.

Boromir, who was nearest to the Ring, retraced his steps down the slope and picked it up by the chain. Without so much as a second thought, he continued down the mountain and held it out to Frodo. He offered he half-ling a smile, "Here Frodo." The hobbit smiled in return, taking the chain and carefully returning it back around his neck. "Careful not to lose it now. Goodness knows what would happen if the Ring fell into the wrong hands." The half-ling nodded in agreement before beginning to follow Boromir back up the mountain, Aragorn in tow behind them.

After the moments delay, they all journeyed onward. However, the bright day quickly morphing into a chaotic blizzard the further they trekked up the mountain. Soon, the entire Fellowship was trudging through massive drifts of snow, with even more of the white flakes pelting against them as they tried to carry on in the freezing cold.

Gandalf was doing his best to carve a path for those behind him, but their travels were still very slow going through the high drifts. Eina had an arm wrapped around Frodo, trying to keep even the smallest bit of cold away from him.

But as her feet pressed down yet again against the white powder, a familiar tickle began to fall down her spine. She dared to lift her head up against the raging winds, looking for whatever could possibly be causing this strange sensation to happen yet again. But it soon became clear that, in the midst of the raging blizzard, nothing was physically coming towards them. Not even the Crebain could navigate this storm.

A pair of boots had then appeared on top the bank of snow beside her. She lifted her chin to see Legolas, whose feet remained light on the snow, now standing beside her. He looked to her, "Is something wrong?" He inquired.

"I sense that there is something of ill intent upon us." She answered, "Though, I can't _see_ anything. Perhaps you could try and search for it with your Elvin eyes?" Legolas nodded and Eina beginning to move Frodo forward yet again. The Hobbit looked at her curiously as she ushered him along the snowy path.

From on top the banks of snow, Legolas moved out in front of the group and near the mountains ledge. Looking out into the storm, a crease formed on his brow. Eina was right; there was something other than the whipping of the winds that was being tossed about the sky.

"There is a fell voice on the air!" Legolas shouted above the storm. The ringing of ancient words and spells could then be heard.

"It's Saruman!" Upon Gandalf's cry, numerous boulders loosened themselves from their places on top the mountain and tumbled ruthlessly towards the Fellowship. With what strength they had, the Fellowship threw themselves flat against the cliff wall, hoping to keep from being crushed as the rocks tumbled past in a roar of crashing stone.

Though the deadly boulders had passed, the Fellowship knew this would not be the end of their troubles. Aragorn was the first to recognize this, "He's trying to bring down the mountain! Gandalf, we must turn back!" From beside him, Sam was quivering like a leaf against the cold.

"No!" The wizard replied immediately. Gandalf trudged through the snow and stood on the ledge of the mountain. From here, he began to shout his own words of magic in hopes of calming the mountain.

But the mountain had already been won. Lighting then struck the very top of the mountain, sending an avalanche hailing down on them. With the swiftness and agility his race was famed for, Legolas pulled Gandalf away from the ledge and back against the cliff face just as the snow and ice is dumped upon them. For a moment, the mountain was still, save for the billows of wind and snow.

With waning energy, the Fellowship managed to pull themselves out from underneath the snow. This time, it is Boromir who is adamant in speaking, "We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to the White City!" Besides him, Merry and Pippin were pale, if not paler than the snow, their teeth chattering against the cold between their blue lips.

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn said, yelling over the wind.

It was then Gimili who offered a suggestion, "If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it." Snow and ice stuck to nearly every inch of the dwarf's vermillion beard, refusing to let go even as he spoke. "Let us go through the Mines of Moria."

Eina and Frodo stood in between everyone, with Frodo pulled close to fruitlessly try and keep away the cold. But even through the blizzard, Eina can see a quiet and unannounced fear creep into Gandalf's eyes. She can also tell that he is undecided on what to do. And so Eina offered a suggestion, "Let the Ring Bearer decide."

"We cannot stay here!" Boromir was insistent, "This will be the death of the Hobbits!" Grimly enough, his proclamation had very good potential for becoming true. Sam, Merry, and Pippin all looked frozen to the bone, shaking against the cold with snow and ice caked to nearly every inch of their bodies.

The wizard turned his gaze to the blue-eyed hobbit, "Frodo?"

The half-ling looked to his friends, and seeing their misery as well as everyone else's, he decided. "We will go through the Mines."

"So be it." Gandalf said softly. With the decision made, the Fellowship turned around and began to make the trip back down the snowy mountain. Gandalf once again moved to the front of the group with the Hobbits seemingly running after him. At the news being able to get off the mountain, the Hobbits seemed to find a new will to keep going for their motivation to carry on had been rekindled.

As Eina watched the rest of the group begin to descend, she remained behind for a moment. Her eyes were trailing after Gandalf. From on top of the snow and ice, Legolas stood beside her. Upon seeing her stare, his eyes followed her gaze. His face then turned puzzled and he stepped down onto the carved path where she stood. "Is something the matter?" He asked.

"I'm not sure." She answered, pulling her cloak closed with stiff hands, "But I cannot help but feel that there is something Gandalf is keeping from us." To this comment, the two of them glanced at one another; both now curious and wary of the secrets their wizard friend was hiding as they began to walk back down the mountain.

%^&

What was left the of day had passed, and the Fellowship had since traveled off of the mountain (much to the relief of the Hobbits). They had passed south and were now trailing along what was left of an ancient aqueduct, following a small stream as they walked.

The two siblings of the group walked side by side, softly chatting with one another. Eina had just finished telling Boromir of what she had discussed with Legolas when the dwarf in front of them stopped abruptly.

"The walls of Moria." Gimili let out an awestruck breath. The remainder of the Fellowship looked up, seeing a vast cliff face towering above them.

Eina couldn't help but smile, "It really is magnificent." The wall disappeared into the misty haze above them, making it seems as if the wall went on forever into the sky.

Gimili's chest seemed to puff out a bit at her compliment, "Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." He boasted, tapping his ax against a rock, picking up his stride yet again. The Fellowship all then continued to trail along the cliff wall, searching for the door.

"Yes, Gimili, their own masters cannot find them, if their secrets are forgotten." Gandalf added, running his hand along the wall as he walked.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Legolas commented. Those who happened to overhear the elf's comment couldn't help but snicker. The dwarf shot a glare towards the prince, grumbling under his breath before continuing on.

The stream they were following had emptied into a small pool that shimmered like black glass against the moonlight. A splash was suddenly heard, and heads turned to see Frodo hastily pulling his foot out of the water. For an instant his eyes scanned the water fretfully, hoping he hadn't disturbed anything that might've been lurking beneath the blackened water. Aragorn put a hand on his shoulder, nodding him forward and further from the waters edge.

Gandalf, who was still running his hand along the rock wall, suddenly came to stop at a large stone between two trees. He then began to mutter, "Now… let's see. Ithildin." With a hand still trailing across the cliff face, silvery wisps' began to appear on the rock wall. "It mirrors only starlight… and moonlight." The wizard then turned his gaze to the night sky, which, after the swift shifting of clouds, revealed the moon. The silvery lines then became brighter, revealing a door framed by two columns beneath an arch. A star was imprinted at the very center of the door, glowing just as brightly as the moon above them.

From behind him, the rest of the Fellowship gathered, listening to him as he spoke, "It reads 'The Doors of Durin – Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.'"

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked.

Gandalf, who was obviously pleased for even having found the door, answered swiftly, "Oh, it's quite simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password, and the doors will open." Gandalf then took a step towards the doors, lifting his staff and pressing it against the glowing star, "Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen!" After a few seconds, all was still and the doors remained closed.

Although now slightly off put, Gandalf stepped back, lifting his arms high towards the doors and trying again, "Fennas Nogothrim, lasto beth lammen."

"Nothing's happening." Pippin commented, which earned a somewhat agitated stare from the wizard. Gandalf then pushed against the doors, hoping his efforts were not in vain. But it was clear that the doors remained tightly closed against all of his efforts to open them. The remaining members of the Fellowship all glanced at one another; why were the doors refusing them entry?

Having taken a few steps back from the impenetrable door, Gandalf spoke, "I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves… Men… and Orcs."

"What are you going to do, then?" Pippin's question was an innocent one, but Gandalf's patience had long since grown thin.

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took!" The wizard snapped, causing the hobbit to flinch ever so slightly at the harshness of his words, "And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words." The rest of the Fellowship looked to one another before each moving about to find a comfortable place to rest, for it would seem that they would be waiting here for a while as Gandalf tried to solve the mystery of the Dwarf doors that refused to allow them entrance.

%^&

Some time had passed, and the Fellowship had all found places to rest beside the lake near the doors. Gandalf was still uttering countless spells and words in many tongues in efforts to try and get the doors to open; despite his valiant efforts, none of them proved to be the right ones, and the door was still sealed shut.

Eina sat on a small stone, watching Aragorn unhitch the pony from its bridle, sending it off back down the path they'd came. Sam was beside him, his expression a bit crestfallen before the ranger set a hand on the Hobbit's shoulder, offering a small, but comforting smile. As they began to walk back towards the rest of the group, Merry and Pippin began to throw stones into the water. As Aragorn walked past, he grabbed them both by the arms, "Do not disturb the water."

"Oh, it's useless!" Gandalf suddenly proclaimed, tossing his staff and hat onto the ground before sitting down beside Frodo. Eina glanced over at the wizard. He was clearly troubled, but he had every right to be. She stood from her place and walked over to the seated pair, looking to the door with her own eyes. Frodo decided to join her in further observing the quizzical markings.

"This thing is proving to be quite the puzzle, isn't it Frodo?" Eina said offhandedly, her eyes following the intricate words across the top arch.

But her words sent a spark of an idea through Frodo's mind, "Puzzle…" He muttered, brow now furrowed as the gears of his mind began to turn, "It's a riddle. Speak 'friend' and enter." The half-ling looked up to the woman standing beside him, "Eina, what's the Elvish word for friend?"

She looked to him, uttering the single word, _"Mellon."_ And to their great astonishment, the stone doors began to move, rumbling deeply as they swung open. They revealed a seemingly endless black pit that disappeared into the side of the cliff face. But Gandalf was not deterred from the darkness, and quickly gathered his discarded things and stepped forward into the Mines.

With quiet steps, he took the first few paces into the dark, with the rest of the Fellowship in tow behind him. Aragorn and Boromir came in last, both of them taking watchful looks back over their shoulders. Even with the moonlight flooding in past the doors, it was still very dark in the Mines.

Gandalf then placed a crystal on top of his staff as Gimili began to banter on about the Mines, "Soon, Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves! Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone." The look of eagerness was clear on Gimili's face by this point, "This, my friend, is the home of my cousin, Balin. And they call it a mine." He laughed, "A mine!"

But as Gandalf breathed light into the stone upon his staff, it was clear that they would never enjoy such luxuries. "This is no mine…" Boromir proclaimed, taking in the horrid sight that surrounded them, "It's a tomb."

From all around them, an endless number of corpses littered the ground, all belonging to the Dwarves who once called this place home. Many of them were broken, battered, and strewn about, sending a dark chill down each of their spines.

"Oh, no! Noooo!" Gimili howled in anguish.

Everyone had grown dangerously tense and hands began to fall on the hilts of swords. Legolas pulled an arrow from the body of a dwarf, quickly scanning it over. Upon realization, his face twisted to disgust before tossing the arrow away, "Goblins."

To this announcement, Boromir and Aragorn drew their swords. Legolas notched an arrow to his bow and all eyes began to search the darkness. Eina had begun to usher the Hobbits back and out of the Mines; this place was not safe. But as her eyes glanced over the heads of the four half-lings, she couldn't help but notice the black water of the pool churning behind them.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan." Boromir proclaimed, deadest. "We never should have come here. This place is not safe. Now get out of here. Get out!"

Eina had stopped just beneath the archway of the door, the Hobbits bumping into her, not having noticed that she'd stopped. "Boromir," She yelled over her shoulder, not daring to take her eyes off the water. She put her hands up, keeping the Hobbits behind her just as the surface of the water erupted with a new dangerous life.

In a seemingly well-practiced motion, Eina notched an arrow to her bow and shot at the long snaking tentacle that was headed straight for them. Her aim was true, and severed the black appendage clean in half, earning a wild cry of anguish from the beast as it's mangled limb shot back under the water. She couldn't help but smirk at hearing the Hobbits cheer her on.

However, their cheers quickly died as another dozen tentacles were being hurdled at her and the half-lings at a new level of ferocity. She swore under her breath, shoving the Hobbits out of harms way just as the slimy black arms reached them.

But having had moved the Hobbits, she did not have time to move herself. Within a split second, the slippery tentacles were wrapped around her in a tight grip, yanking her clean off of her feet and into the air. She didn't even have the time to scream before the beast decided to plunge her into the water.

But what was worse than being mercilessly ripped off her feet and dragged into the water was the fact that the beast seemed to want to _keep_ her there, submerged in the cold, dank water. The beast had her from both ankles and a wrist. Yet try as she might, struggling against its grip, her thrashing came to no avail.

She needed to think, and quickly; being under Gandalf's new spell meant that she now needed air, and she was quickly running out of it. But how was she supposed to get herself out of this mess? But there was so little air left in her lungs… so little… not enough…

Eina then experienced a feeling she had not known in nearly 17 years: panic. So again, she struggled against the grip of the beast, knowing that she had mere seconds before she would blackout. She slammed her free hand against one of the tentacles, desperately trying to get it to release her.

From behind closed eyelids, she could see a glow suddenly appear from her right hand, which was still trying to fight against the beast. The glow erupted and died almost instantly. But before the light even had disappeared, the tentacles that held her flinched away, finally letting go. Her instinct to survive urged her to swim upward, and with a few kicks, she broke the surface of the pool. With great breaths, she heaved in gulps of air, her vision still spotty for having nearly drowned.

A voice from the shore suddenly yelled out to her, "Eina!" Although she could not see him, she knew the voice belonged to Legolas. She heard an arrow soar just above her head, which was instantly followed by an angry roar from the monster. "Get out of the water!" He ordered, letting two more arrows fly. Not needing to be told twice, she began to swim the short distance back to shore.

She scrambled out of the water, drenched, but alive. She looked over her shoulder in time to see that sheer pandemonium had broken out. Arrows and swords were flying every which way and water was splashing everywhere.

Mustering up her strength, she stood on shaky legs. "Eina!" Someone yelled out to her. She whipped her head around to see Merry, Pippin and Sam all gathered back under the archway, ushering her over to them. In a few seconds, she was beside them, each of them talking so fast she could hardly keep up.

"We saw you go under the water—" Merry started.

"And then there was this light—!" Sam interjected.

"It was a strange color—" Pippin carried on.

"But then you reappeared!"

"We were so relieved."

"We'd thought you'd drowned!"

"And then the monster got Frodo—"

Eina hardly let Sam finish his sentence before interrupting him, "It WHAT?!" She flung herself back around, eyes instantly finding the missing half-ling, who was hanging precariously from one of the beast's tentacles above seemed to be the creature's mouth.

She did not realize that she had fired the arrow until its trailing pink light had blown a hole clear through the tentacle that was holding Frodo, severing the limb completely. The beast wailed in agony, and Boromir managed to catch the falling Hobbit before he fell into the murky water yet again.

"Into the Mines!" Gandalf ordered, having run up to the little group before outright shoving them under the archway and back into the dark mines.

"But the others!" Eina protested, ready to fire off another arrow.

The voice of her brother suddenly yelled out, "Legolas!" The remaining members of the Fellowship then sprinted as fast as they could towards the doors as Legolas continued to fire off arrows that dared to chase after his comrades. Tentacles continued to fall, and given a split second advantage, Legolas fired an arrow into the beast's eye. With a roar of pain, the creature recoiled for an instant before lunging all its remaining limbs after the fleeing company, tearing at the stone around the door in efforts to reach them as the moved further back into the mines.

Massive stone slabs quickly begin to crumble against the beast's rage and soon the roof around the door collapsed. Within seconds, the last rays of moonlight vanished and the Fellowship was left in darkness.

A voice spoke out in the dark in between the heavy breathing of the company, "We now have but one choice." A familiar light emerged from the stone on Gandalf's staff, revealing the fearful and startled faces of the Fellowship. "We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than orcs, in the deep places of the world." He then began to walk further into the darkness with the rest of the company trailing after him, their feet scuffling along the dusty and corpse ridden ground.

"Quietly now." Gandalf proclaimed quietly, "It's a four day journey to the other side. Let hope that our presence goes unnoticed." And so, the Fellowship crept into the swallowing darkness, their steps light as they dared to tread ever deeper into the depths of the hallowed mine.

* * *

_She always smiles like that when she lies._

%^&

Please review!

And so the plot begins to diverge from the movie… if you think these are interesting little twists, then just wait and see what else I have in store.


	9. Journey in the Dark

**CHAPTER NINE**

Journey in the Dark

* * *

"_We were so careful…"_

* * *

No one was entirely sure of how long they had been walking for judging the passage of time was hard to figure when they were forever surrounded by darkness. For most of their journey, the company remained silent, each quietly fearful of whatever foes they might encounter should their passing be discovered.

Over time, Eina had become latched to her brother's side. "Are you sure you are alright?" Boromir asked quietly. He had his sister at one arm, and a flaming torch in the other. "You did almost just drown Eina…"

She was quick to squelch his worries, "Yes, yes, I'm fine. I'm just a bit wet, that's all." She suddenly twitched at the sound of a stone as it was kicked by one of the Hobbit's ahead of them.

Her newfound skittishness didn't go unnoticed by her fellows. "You, out of all of us, should find no fear while traveling in darkness." Aragorn commented, having already seen her jump at least a dozen times, his torch illuminating his face from behind them. While her jumpy behavior was, admittedly, mildly entertaining, he could not help but be curious as well. "What troubles you?" He inquired as they walked on.

Her jaw tightened at his observation, "My eyes are not what they used to be, thanks to Gandalf." Eina brought her free hand up, rubbing it across her eyes as if by doing so she would somehow solve her current predicament.

"What do you mean?" The ranger asked, a brow shooting up on his forehead.

"She can no longer see in the dark." Boromir answered, noting his sister move closer to him yet again at the sound a scuffling boot.

Upon catching herself flinch, Eina growled in frustration, "I cannot stand being so blind."

"Now you see as the rest of us always do." Legolas chimed in quietly. "Forever seeing things in the light and never the dark."

"Speaking of light," Aragorn gestured ahead of them, "look there." The Fellowship then stepped into a great cavern that seemed to glow from around them. Gandalf rested a hand on a silver vein in the stone.

"The wealth in Moria was not in gold, or jewels…" The Wizard then tilted his staff down towards the pit beside them, "But Mithril." The light from his staff then brightened, allowing them to see further into the mine below.

At its immaculate depth, the pit seemed to go on for what appeared to be forever, only disappearing when the light from Gandalf's staff could illuminate it no further. The scaffolding down into the pit seemed just as endless, old and disused as it disappeared into the mineshafts far below. All eyes were in awe of the sight. Merry stood transfixed, beginning to lean farther over the gaping hole. Pippin brought a hand up across his friend's chest, knocking him from his stupor.

Gandalf then lifted his staff back upwards and began to walk again, "Bilbo had a shirt of Mithril rings that Thorin gave him."

"Oh, that was a kingly gift." Gimili said full heartedly.

"Yes!" Gandalf answered, "I never told him, but its worth was far greater than the value of the Shire." From amongst the group, Frodo looked up, his eyes now showing surprise at this new information. However, the half-ling said nothing as they pressed on. They then departed from the Mithril mine, and soon came out in a very open cavern, where, at the farther end, was an extremely steep stairway.

Gandalf lead them to the stairs. "Keep steady hands and feet," He muttered, beginning the long climb first, "If you fall from these stairs, there will be no getting back up." Tentatively, the rest of the Fellowship followed. For what seemed ages, they climbed, none of them daring to look down in fear of being consumed by vertigo. So silently, they moved their way upward until everyone had made it to the top of the stairs.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief having made it past the stairs in one piece. From the top of the imposing steps, Eina looked back down as she followed up behind everyone, "Stairs," she scoffed, "More like a cliff face." Some of her comrades chuckled, beginning to follow after Gandalf yet again now that they were safely on level ground.

But their travels came to a swift halt when they came to the meeting of three tunnels. Gandalf looked between the trio of pathways. "I have no memory of this place." He muttered. The Wizard then sat down, in hopes of jogging his memory of the correct path.

Eina took up post on the ground beside the Hobbits, listening to them quietly chatter to one another about their hunger. After a few minutes, she couldn't help but noticing a peculiar sensation; it was a faint prickling of the hairs on the back of her neck, a sensation she new common when someone was staring at her. Craning her head around, Eina hoped to see just whose eyes were boring into the back of her skull, but she saw nothing through the darkness, huffing.

Her behavior was once again noticed, "Is something the matter Eina?" Merry asked, having momentarily halted his conversation about an excellent strand of pipe weed he'd been having with his fellows.

"I feel as if we are being watched." Her eyes bore into the darkness, searching. After a moment, she let out a defeated sigh, "But for all I know, my paranoia once again getting the best of me."

To everyone's surprise, Gandalf interjected calmly, "It is Gollum."

"Gollum?" Frodo asked, his neck craning down to see the creature in question slinking his way after them. The others turned their attention toward the Wizard, whom now happened to be smoking from his pipe.

In between a puff of smoke, Gandalf answered, "He's been following us for three days."

"He escaped the dungeons of Barad-Dûr!" Frodo asked, astonished.

A dark look passed over Gandalf's face. "Escaped." His eyes trailed down to Gollum, whose gnarled hands continued to pry their way upwards, "Or let loose?"

Eina felt her eyes narrow in the direction of their new stalker, and she found herself wandering off a ways, her eyes looking for Gollum down below.

"You are troubled." Eina did not turn to look at the Prince as he came up behind her.

"No." Her eyes scoured the cracked mines below, "Just curious." For a moment, the pair of them stood in silence as they both looked down into the darkness beneath them.

"You are an interesting one." The Prince commented.

"As are you."

"Says the wielder of mysterious, untapped magical powers."

She couldn't help but let out a curt laugh, "You've got me there, Princey." Her eyes then turned somber, still searching the darkness, "I just wish these powers weren't so ambiguous. I mean, what use are they if I cannot use them?"

"You will learn how to, in time."

Eina hummed in affirmation. "One can only hope." She said.

"There is always hope."

At his words, Eina felt her eyes drawn the Prince. But before she had the chance to continue their conversation, a voice broke out from behind them. The pair then turned, seeing Gandalf having risen from his seat with a smile lining his face. Eina grinned herself, turning and beginning to walk back towards the group, "Gandalf must have remembered the way." With their path revealed, the Fellowship then continued on their way, descending into the darkness of the tunnel farthest to the right.

After a moment of walking, Gandalf spoke again, "Now, let me risk a bit more light." The Wizard's safe continued to grow even brighter, illuminating the colossal sight before them. "Behold; the great realm and Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf."

All eyes couldn't help but turn wide at the site before them; rows upon rows of impressively massive stone pillars towered above them towards a ceiling that could not even be revealed by the new light from Gandalf's staff. The hall seemed endless as Gandalf began to lead them on.

"There's an eye opener, no mistake." Sam murmured, earning faint nods from his companions as they toiled along.

"I must admittedly give the Dwarfs credit for such a magnificent feat; this is truly remarkable." Eina said. Gimili couldn't help but smirk, puffing up his chest at her compliment.

She then caught Legolas speak to her in a hushed voice, "Careful now. Keep throwing around compliments like that, and Gimili's head will be sure to burst." Eina laughed quietly, continuing to walk along with Legolas at her side, continuing to make jokes at Gimili's new (and rather amusing) behavior.

But then, for whatever reason, Gimili sprinted off under a nearby archway, a single stream of light tumbling into the mysterious room from the outer world. "Gimili!" Gandalf called after him. But the Dwarf did not listen as he disappeared into the moonlit romm. Not wanting to lose one of their comrades, the Fellowship followed after him.

This new, and much smaller space was just as littered with corpses as the rest of the Mine. However, there was an oddity to the place, for a tomb sat in the middle of the room. It soon became apparent that this was the source of Gimili's grief as he kneeled, crying before the stone coffin.

Gandalf stood in front of the tomb. His voice was wary, more hope slipping out of his voice with every word, "Here lies Balin…son of Fundin…Lord of Moria" Gandalf lowered his hat, "He is dead then."

The Wizard turned to the rest of the on lookers, his expression grave. "It is as I feared." Gimili continued to weep, but none of them had the heart to tell him to be quiet. Gandalf then handed his staff and hat to Pippin before striding over to one of the half-rotted corpses, seeing a large bound book in its grasp. He retrieved the volume and began to page through it, obviously searching for something.

Eina stood beside Pippin, both of them taking up post near a dried up well. Eina watched a short exchange between the ranger and the Prince. "We must move on. We cannot linger." The humor that Legolas had been harboring in his voice only moments ago had all but vanished. The Prince's words were urgent, and Eina suddenly felt a horrible sense of foreboding. And this feeling did not disappear as Gandalf began to read from the last pages of the tattered book.

"'They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums; drums in the deep.'" The Wizard paused as he turned the page. "'We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming.'"

Gandalf's narration had caused a knot to develop in Eina's stomach, and her mouth had suddenly gone unbearably dry; whatever it was that the Dwarfs had awoken within the mine, it had obviously been the end of them. She glanced over to Pippin who had been nervously backing ever closer to the well behind them, his elbow just on the verge knocking a chained bucket into the dried pit.

In haste, Eina grabbed him, causing the half-ling to halt before he sent the old bucket crashing down into the well. He looked confused for a moment but she nodded towards the bucket, which earned a small, '_ah'_ from him in recognition. Pippin then moved forward and farther away from the imposing trouble.

Gandalf carried on, setting the book down, "Let us carry on, and quickly now. We have nearly reached the other side." He then retrieved his possessions from Pippin, "Let us hope that our presence shall continue to go unnoticed." Gandalf then walked back out of the room, the others beginning to follow after him. Eina pulled Pippin along by the shoulder, steering him far away from the well and out the door.

As they walked out, she stuttered in her steps for a moment, noticing that two of their company had yet to join them. Legolas remained behind, and to both Pippin's and Eina's surprise, the Elf put a hand on Gimili's shoulder, trying to comfort grieving Dwarf. Their axe barring fellow let out one last loud sniffle before returning to his feet. Gimili then wiped his eyes feverishly, glancing up to Legolas and to their surprise, nodded once before making his way out of the chamber.

Eina and Pippin said nothing as Gimili walked past, a few tears still clinging to his vermillion beard. Legolas followed behind him, to which Eina commented, "That was very kind of you."

"Yes," Pippin added, watching Gimili walk off. The Hobbit spoke before he could stop himself, "But I thought that Dwarves and Elves hated each other?" Eina dropped a look of scolding towards the half-ling, whose face was already sinking for having realized the implications of his words; it was no secret that the relationship between Dwarves and Elves was forever laden with tension. However, to bring it up openly in front of one of the two arguing parties never ended well; one side would ruthlessly degrade and insult the other, so the topic, when in the presence of either party, was avoided at all costs.

But to Pippin's words, Legolas's face remained passive, "Greif is not something that is restricted to a single race, for all creatures feel hurt when the lose one they love. Once this fact is realized, such feelings of animosity begin to fade away." To his words, all of their eyes traveled to their sole Dwarf companion, their hearts going out to him for his loss. Without speaking, the trio then began to walk on, momentarily lost to their thoughts as they continued to venture through the mines.

Eina let her mind begin to wander to a darker place where she was without those who loved her, trying to imagine what Gimili must be feeling. But upon feeling tears begin to prick at her eyes, she shook her head, banishing such thoughts from her mind.

In further efforts to distract her thoughts, she looked up, her eyes finally seeing what was around her. They were descending an immaculate stone stairway with endless black trenches on either side. Eina made sure to stay very close to the center of the walk, not at all keen on the idea of falling endlessly into the gaping black hole on either side of her. But the stone walk was already crumbing, and as they walked, more pieces of it gave way beneath them, at first tumbling but then falling silently to their final resting place in the black chasm below. With careful footing, the Fellowship passed the crumbling stairway and entered another large chamber.

More pillars rose above them like a dark forest, casting a feeling of animosity down their spines. Eina stepped up to Legolas, "Just how much farther until we reach the other side?" She whispered to him, her eyes darting through the shadows.

"Not far. Gandalf said we should be crossing the Bridge of Khazd-dûm quite soon." Somewhere in the shadows around them, a stone tumbled along the ground and Eina jumped, her shoulder bumping into the Prince. Legolas couldn't help but let a smile slip at her skittishness. "The dark truly frightens you now, doesn't it?"

Her opaque blue eyes looked up to him. "It's not the dark I'm afraid of," Her eyes scoured the shadows all around them, "It's what lies behind it that I cannot see the scares me. Darkness and shadows were once my friends, a place where I could seek refuge and comfort. But now they are a new danger," she sighed deeply, "and a suffocating danger at that."

And it was then, as her eyes once against trailed over the darkness, that from the corner of her eyes, she saw something. At first she thought it was a mere trick of light. However, there was a problem to her theory. For one, the only _light_ being provided was coming from Gandalf's staff, and it was in no way lighting the dark corridor she was now staring down.

Secondly, this was a new light altogether; it was entirely different in comparison to the white light coming from Gandalf's staff. It was even different than the light of day. This light, as Eina stared at it, was a humble orange glow, barely a speck against the darkness. Almost like a tiny flame.

So in a moment of haste, she grabbed on to Legolas's sleeve, bringing him to an immediate halt. "Eina, what's—" Her hand flew up and she pointed towards the mysterious light, which was now steadily growing in size. The duo watched as the light grew, the source of the light still hiding far behind the corner. But knots suddenly began to grow in their stomachs. The light, once a speck at ground level, had risen endlessly towards the ceiling, and continued to burn ever brighter as it grew.

It was only when the burning light reached the ceiling did they feel the first tremor. The ground rumbled beneath them, as if the very mountain itself had awoken. It was faint, but then, like a steady pulse, came again. The dusty ground was suddenly brought to life with trembling stones as they shivered at the continual beat.

"Legolas! Eina!" The duo was knocked from their trance, immediately looking towards the voice that had called them. Gandalf was staring at them hard, his lips pulled into a fine line. The rest of their company had come to a halt for the tremors now loud enough for all of them to hear. Eyes were slowly turning wide as the rumbling continued. The light that was once so painfully small was now illuminating the entire corridor and spilling out into the main chamber in which they stood.

To their further horror, a guttural roar echoed across the walls of the mine. Despite the suggested warmth that would come from the amber light, the sound that followed was chilling. It was as if someone had given brimstone a voice with a tongue made of hellfire.

Eina gulped, glancing over to the Elf beside her; the look of fear in his eyes caused her stomach to drop even further. She _never_ saw the Elf Prince show such fear before. To have him look so afraid was dangerously unsettling.

Boromir then dared to pose a question, "What is this new devilry?"

For a moment, Gandalf was silent, his eyes closed deep in concentration. His eyes then opened, his expression grave, "A Balroq – a demon of the ancient world." The light was steadily intensifying, the rumbling becoming ever louder. "This foe is beyond any of you. Run!"

And so they ran, hearts pounding as they rushed to escape the demon that was now trailing after them. As they sprinted through the mines, Eina belted out a question, "I do not understand!" She hollered as they passed under another stone archway. "How could it have possibly discovered of our presence? We were so careful."

"Who cares!" Gimili yelled back to her, the group still running down yet another corridor, "What matters is getting us all out of here alive! Because I, for one, do not wish to be burned to death!" Eina glared at the Dwarf for an instant, but admittedly knew that he was right. And so, she bit her tongue as they skidded their way out of the corridor and down a flight of steps, each of them fast on each others heals as they ran. As they rounded another corner, the flight of steps ended abruptly in a bought of missing steps. Eina's heart nearly froze as saw her brother, in the lead, nearly falling into the dark chasm that stretched out endlessly beneath him.

But Legolas, in his swiftness, pulled Boromir back, saving him from the similar fate of the torch he'd been holding as it tumbled down into the darkness. It was then that she remembered to breathe as she heard Gandalf and Aragorn approaching her from behind.

"Lead them on Aragorn!" Gandalf urged, "The bridge is near!" As they ran on, a large cavern spread out before them, yet another seemingly impossible gap dropping down into it. But as imposing as the gap was, as they gazed across the gap, they could see a bridge connecting to two sides. They way out had finally appeared.

Aragorn moved back by Gandalf, a hand at his sword. However, the Wizard pushed the ranger away, "Do as I say!" Gandalf yelled. A mixture of hurt and confusion passed over Aragorn's face. The Balroq roared from behind them once again. "Swords are of no more use here." Gandalf ensured, his eyes hard. Aragorn, through not entirely sure of Gandalf's decision, ran to the front of the group, beginning to lead them on down a slight of massive stairs towards the bridge.

Eina made a move to follow him, but a hand on her shoulder caused her to stop. Placing both of his hands on her shoulders, Gandalf began to speak very quickly, "My dear, I have a task for you if you are willing to rise up to it."

Without question Eina nodded, her eyes wide but focused. Gandalf pursed his lips, their eyes now locked in a stare. "You have the power to defeat this beast."

"But how—"

"Your magic. It is far stronger than you know."

"But what can I do?"

"Follow me and _no_ _matter_ _what_ _happens_, do as I say. Can you do this for me?" Gandalf's eyes were hard. Another rumble echoed around them.

She nodded, and he did the same. "Now." He squeezed of her shoulders for an instant, "Let us fly!" They then parted, Gandalf running down the steps to follow the rest of the company with Eina right on his heels.

While she was surprised, and albeit somewhat confused at Gandalf's request, she wasn't going to say no. She would do anything to be of help to the company, no matter the cost. And so, she kept close to the Wizard, waiting for his commands.

And so they descend, with the roars of the Balroq becoming louder and more frequent as they continued to fly down the steps. They had nearly reached the bridge when the stairs suddenly came to an end, a large piece of the stairway having already crumbled into the underworld below.

Legolas was the first to make the leap, coming to land with remarkable ease on the other side. The beast roared yet again, this time it's cry causing the underground foundation to splinter, sending heaving boulders into the depths below. Legolas turned back to his comrades, "Gandalf!" He gestured, to which the Wizard followed suit and landed on the other side.

Eina, whose hand had suddenly found itself locked with Frodo's, suddenly yanked the half-ling into her as an arrow whizzed passed. Her eyes shot upwards, "Goblins!" She yelled, quickly drawing her own bow and aimed it at one of the foul creatures.

She let her arrow fly, and to everyone's astonishment, it let off a translucent pink glow as it soared through the air before lodging itself deep in between the eyes of the offending goblin. But the instant the arrow hit its mark, the light exploded even further, and the goblin was reduced to a pile of dust.

In the midst of the chaos, for an instant, all eyes of the Fellowship turned towards their only female companion as they gaped at her while she gawked at the space that had once been her offender. She gulped, "Well then." Eina then notched a second arrow, and then another, the same thing happening to any goblin who was unfortunate enough to have been caught in the path of her arrows.

From the corner of her eye, she watched Boromir leap across the gap with Merry and Pippin. Legolas had momentarily joined her in the shoot off; Goblins were dropping like flies around them as the duo fired their deadly accurate arsenal upon their enemies. Seeing a break in the rain of arrows, Aragorn threw Sam over the gap into Boromir's arms to keep him from falling. The ranger made a move towards Gimili, but the Dwarf shot up his hand.

"Nobody tosses a Dwarf!" Gimili proclaimed.

"Then jump already!" Eina retorted, firing off yet another arrow.

The Dwarf huffed before making the leapt over the chasm. But his jump was not enough to get him safely to the other side. His feet scuffed the stone, and he began to tumble backwards. Reflexively, Legolas shot out a hand and grabbed onto the closest thing he could, being Gimili's vermillion beard.

"Not the beard!" Gimili hollered. But with a tug, the Dwarf was pulled up onto the stairway to safety.

The Balroq could still be heard approaching from the other hall as the stone mine continued to collapse around them. The demon's echo lets loose yet another gigantic rock from the ceiling. The boulder smashed through the steps behind the three remaining members of the company, leaving them trapped on the segment of stairs. To everyone's further horror, the stairs begin to shift, having been completely severed from its foundation. Eina nearly dropped her bow as she, along with Aragorn and Frodo, began to wobble in efforts to keep from falling.

"Steady!" Aragorn implored, "Hang on!"

"To what, might I ask?" Eina yelled sarcastically. Had the situation not been so dire, Aragorn would have rolled his eyes at her and Frodo would have laughed. But that was not the case.

"Come on!" Legolas yelled, gesturing them to leap across the gap.

"Lean forward!" Aragorn commanded. The trio shifted their weight forward, and the stairs begin to tip with them across the divide, soon crashing into the steps where the rest of their companions were waiting. As the stairways slammed together the last three members of the Fellowship were flung onto the safe portion of the stairs. Boromir helped Eina regain her footing, Legolas had caught Frodo, and Sam and Pippin helped Aragorn back to his feet. With everyone safely on the other side and back on their feet, the Fellowship continued to run down the still crumbling stairs and onto a narrow walkway.

For the moment, Gandalf was in the lead, Eina once again hot on his heels. The bridge was just paces away, and with a sharp left turn they finally made it to the bridge. But while their route to freedom was to one side, to the other was another vast corridor, which was being overcome with a wall of fire; the Balroq had finally caught up to them.

Gandalf stopped just before the bridge, letting the rest of the Fellowship run past, "Over the bridge! Fly!" Eina, in efforts to obey her previous orders, had stopped at the Wizard's side. She brought a hand up to her face, trying to shroud it from the wall of flame beside them. Gandalf turned to face the massive fire, the flames beginning to twist and turn with dangerous life behind.

A dark shadow then pushed through the flames as the Balroq finally revealed its true form. Upon seeing the beast, Eina was sure her heart had stopped. From the curling flames, great ash-black horns wrapped around the beast's head, and she was met with a pair of white-fire eyes that glared down at them with an intensity that was as hot as flames.

"Ready your bow from the far side of the bridge and wait for my signal!" Gandalf suddenly yelled, unmoving as he glared just as heatedly back up at the beast.

With a split second glance being her only hesitation, Eina then bolted away from the waves of flame and heat. She couldn't help but notice how remarkably narrow the bridge was, her eyes looking down to her feet to ensure that her footing was steady as she ran.

As she passed over the bridge, Eina stopped as ordered, turning back around just in time to see the demon let out a guttural roar of rippling heat. As the Balroq roared, Eina reflexively notched an arrow, waiting for her next command.

Finally, Gandalf turned and began to run across the bridge. Eina nearly sighed, thinking he would cross the bridge and they would fight the beast together. However, the Wizard stopped halfway, turning back to face the beast as it chased after him. A black cloven foot burst into flame as it stepped forward. She could feel the bridge quiver as the monster took another step forward, the quake rocking through her entire body as she stood, waiting.

Gandalf was now the only thing standing between her and the Balroq. This was a fact she was grateful for. From so close, the creature's skin gave off the impression of burning embers and its newly revealed claws looked like razor sharp brimstone. This demon, in Eina's honest opinion, was utterly and completely terrifying. She would've gulped had her throat not be so parched.

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf suddenly bellowed.

From the safer side of the gap, a voice shouted out. "Gandalf, Eina!" She knew the voice to be Frodo's but she dared not turn her eyes away from the beast, it's body erupting in a burst of raw flaming power. Eina remained motionless, her body practically aching as she waited for Gandalf to signal her to let her arrow fly. It was then, to her further horror, the Balroq summoned a flaming sword. Things were looking far from promising for them.

And yet, Gandalf still did not flinch, even as a pair of smoky black wings burst from the demon's back. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor…" Gandalf's voice grew louder as he spoke. The Balroq raised its sword, preparing to strike at Gandalf, "Go back to the Shadow." The Wizard commanded. With its flaming sword still raised, the beast let out another grumbling roar, its black mouth now gaping wide open.

"Fire!" Gandalf yelled. But the word had hardly left his mouth before Eina had motioned to let her arrow fly. True to its mark, the arrow erupted with a bright light as it left her hand, letting off a loud _'crack'_ as it implanted itself in the back of the beast's throat; a flawless shot, sent deep into the beasts gaping maw.

Instantly, the Balroq buckled to its knees, the sword vanishing before it had even fallen halfway. It brought its clawed hands to its throat, this time letting out a far more agonized cry. Eina nearly smiled; Gandalf's plan had worked. She could faintly register the sound of the rest of their company cheering them on from behind them; they had won.

But then the unthinkable happened. The beast, in its painful rage, looked up, its piercing white eyes hunting soley for whomever had lodged the arrow in its throat. With remarkable speed, the beast stood, retracting its hands from its throat and conjuring up a flaming whip, cracking it straight towards Eina before she even had the chance to blink.

All she could register was the feeling of complete and utter pain as she felt the whip wrap itself around her right leg, tugging her down to the ground with a forceful tug. She let out a cry of agony as she fell, slamming hard into the stone ground. As she fell, she couldn't help but look over her fate; rather pathetic, falling to her death into a pitch black chasm all because she hadn't reacted quick enough…

But in the split second this thought took to cross her mind, Eina felt the whip release her. Despite the newfound pain erupting from her leg and the ringing in her ears, Eina dragged herself away from the gap. Her teeth were clenched furiously as she pulled herself back to her feet, tears stinging her eyes as she looked back out to her Wizard companion.

She turned just in time to see Gandalf let out a furious yell, "YOU – SHALL NOT – PASS!" The Wizard then drove his staff into the stone bridge, a blue light erupting from it as Gandalf called upon its power. Still daring, the Balroq stepped forward onto the bridge.

To everyone's astonishment, the bridge collapsed from beneath the demon, sending it plunging into the deep chasm below. Eina let out a tiny breath of relief. She then took a careful step forward, beginning to move out towards Gandalf in hopes of helping him off the broken bridge.

But her nerves were pushed to their limits for the flaming whip reappeared and wrapped itself around the Wizard's ankle, yanking him off his feet and pulling him over the edge of the broken bridge. She watched horrorstruck as Gandalf clung to the crumbling edge of the bridge. But it was clear that his grip was slipping.

"GANDALF!" Eina screamed, panic clear in both her voice and eyes. Adrenaline was pouring through her as she sprinted back out across the bridge. In a rush, she fell to her stomach at the edge of the bridge, her hands tightly gripping Gandalf's forearms. But he still continued to slip further, his own grip on her arms beginning to fail.

She began to sputter, clearly panicked, "Hold on, just hold on—"

"Eina—" The Wizard spoke carefully.

She only continued to babble, "They'll come and help us—"

"Eina—"

"—They will, they—"

"Let me go." Gandalf inturrpted. His words instantly silenced her, Eina's grey-blue eyes turning wide, tears still streaming down her cheeks. She let out a sudden gasp, her grip faltering for an instant as an arrow embedded itself in her shoulder as she laid their unprotected. But still, her grip on Gandalf's arms held.

Although her eyes were squeezed shut in both anguish and dread, her eyes were still pouring with tears. She muttered back to him, "No. I will not let you fall." She lifted her head, meeting his eyes in a deadest stare.

To her surprise, and confusion, Gandalf shut his eyes and let out a deep sigh. His eyes then reopened, looking straight at her as he spoke. "I'm sorry." He said dolefully.

Her grip on his forearms only tightened. "Why?" Eina inquired.

"For this." Without a seconds delay, a flash of blue light burst from Gandalf's hands, sending a white-hot burning sensation across Eina's forearms where Gandalf had tried to hold on. But the pain proved to be too much and on instinct, she let go. The instant her hands were free, the agony in her forearms vanished, along with the Wizard as he fell into the darkness of the mines.

In the seconds that passed, Eina simply laid there, watching Gandalf drop further and further into the depths of the chasm. A deafening numbness then overtook her. Eina felt no pain as she watched him completely disappear into the swallowing darkness beneath the shattered bridge. Everything was suddenly silent as she stared down, unable to process anything.

It was only when someone physically pulled her up did she even begin to register her surroundings. Apparently, someone had managed to get her off the edge of the bridge. But whoever they were, they decided that she needed to be carried out of the mines for whatever reason. Perhaps it was because she'd been moving so slowly. Or had she been moving at all? Eina could not bring herself to even attempt to find answers to these questions. So instead, she remained numb to the world around her, still deeply locked in her state of shock as she was hauled out of the crumbling mines. Everything was still ringing in her ears; it was becoming rather annoying. She suddenly was forced to blink very hard as the brightness of day greeted her eyes. Upon blinking, she let her eyes wander.

They were outside of the mines, that much was certain. Eina found herself seated on the ground, someone else's arm still on her shoulder; she vaguely wondered whose it was. But when she looked up, she was startled to see the blaring blue eyes of Frodo glaring down at her.

It was as if in that instant she had returned to herself and took the brute of Frodo's screams. "WHY DID YOU LET HIM FALL? HOW—HOW COULD YOU?!" All eyes had turned towards Frodo, whose devastated rage was directed solely on Eina. She could see his blue eyes were shinning with a waterfall of tears that he struggled to keep at bay.

However, her reply was just a frantic, "HE MADE ME! HE DID SOMETHING, I DON'T KNOW, HE—HE _BURNED_ ME! He made me do it—" She let out a cracked sob, pulling her arms to her chest as if by doing so would somehow restrict the endless pain she was feeling in both her heart and body. "I couldn't hold on…" Frodo then turned away, ashamed at his outburst. But tears continued to shine in his eyes as he walked off, too tormented to speak any further.

For an instant, all was silent as tears streaked their way down Eina's cheeks, clearing away any dust and grime with their salty tracks. "Let me see." A voice said softly. She instantly knew the voice belonged to Legolas. She felt his hand drop from her shoulder and gently pull her hands away from her chest so he could inspect her wounded forearms.

The Prince felt his jaw clench; the flesh was indeed scorched, going from her wrists nearly all the way to her elbows. The worst of the damage being where Gandalf had struggled to hold onto her, just as she did to him. Many layers of skin were missing, and the entire burn was ashen grey, almost black in parts, looking like the cracked like the floor of a desert that had not seen water in many centuries.

In all honesty, Legolas was amazed that she was still alive, let alone conscious after having received such extensive injuries. She had already not noticed him remove the arrow from her shoulder, and he was beginning to worry if she would eventually loose consciousness once the rush of battle had drained away. Thus, his expression was a mixture of perplexity and something more somber as he continued to notice the other large burn mark that wrapped its way around the majority of Eina's right leg. That wound alone should have done her in, and yet here she remained. Legolas couldn't help but wonder…

But it was then that the Elf noticed something. His eyes returned to the wounds on his comrade's arms, only to see the flesh beginning to melt back together. He watched, now awestruck, as the wound had visibly shrunk by half within a span of seconds.

This miraculous healing did not go unnoticed by Eina, "No…" She whispered, the single word splintering woefully is it fell from her cracked lips. Legolas looked up, seeing Eina's face once again drenched in repulsion as she watched the wounds disappear.

Eina's voice then turned frantic and she began to thrash about, "Stop, stop, STOP HEALING!" Legolas managed to pull her into him, trying to pull her from her state of obvious panic. For a few seconds, she attempted to break out of his hold, desperate, but already knowing that the once flaking skin had already been repaired, she could feel it. The pain in her leg had simmered to a dull ache, her forearms a hollow throb, and the wound in her shoulder had entirely vanished. She had, quite literally, healed herself in a span of seconds.

Eina gave up her panicked thrashing, knowing there was no use in fighting the healing factor any longer as it finally began to slow and eventually stop, leaving nothing but a few scars behind in memory of the once grave wounds that had been there not moments before. She then simply let herself crumble into the Prince as he held her. She covered her face with her hands, tears continuing to stream from her eyes as they dripped between her fingers.

As she sobbed, a gruff voice spoke out, "Seeing as how no one else is going so come out and say it, I will," Gimili dared to suggest. She glanced over to him, tears still flowing freely from her eyes, "You're relapsing lass." Eina barked out another sob, her face vanishing in her hands.

"I believe she is already aware of that Gimili." Legolas defended firmly, his arms still managing to comfort his female companion in their protective embrace.

Boromir spoke up, deadest, "We need to find someone who can undo this."

"And how do you suppose we do that?" Gimili argued, a tinge of hopelessness in his voice as he sat. "The one who put that blasted spell on her is _gone_." He spat out the last word remorsefully. "And without that spell…" Gimili's voice drifted off as well, not wanting to speak of the horrors that they all knew were now sure to come.

Aragorn tightened one of his wrist guards, "There is a way." His words earned looks from the others, and they all turned to him. Aragorn uttered a single word. "Lothlórien."

To no ones surprise, Gimili was the first to object, "Are you out of your mind? That's the home of the Elf-Witch!"

Boromir cut in, "And what choice do we have?" Silence was his only answer. He carried on, "It's settled then." Boromir moved to stand before Aragorn, his face set in determination, "Lead the way."

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**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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Moving right along! Certainly not my best, but I'm to the point with this story that something is better than nothing; I'm cutting to the chase with this one. The next chapter will have more answers… and more plot twists. Heh. What's to come is going to be very… _interesting_. So many secrets, so little time… heh-heh.

Reviews make me happy, and are a large reason as to why I haven't completely abandoned this story, so please leave a review.

Until later.


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